


Passion and Perfection

by TurnUps



Series: Running To and Away [2]
Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Boarding School, Emotional Abuse, Harrow School, Historical, Historical Romance, M/M, Seasalt Trio - Freeform, Tutoring, background bullying, in the past, ive always wanted to write a school romance at harrow in the late 1700s lol, slowburn, xion has a secret
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-19 00:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29498703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurnUps/pseuds/TurnUps
Summary: Late 1700s AU - Roxas has finally gotten to go to Harrow school, escaping the shadow of an older brother and an overbearing Grandfather. Axel is selected to make sure he's up to scratch as his tutor. They get much closer than either means to.Don't have to read Worth Running to to read this one*But he’d missed his chance. Red Hair was already asking, "What's your name?"And even though Roxas had been about to scowl at him, there was something - something - that made him open his mouth and reply, "Roxas.""Ah, he does have a tongue." Red Hair grinned, and leant back against the wall."You don't need a tongue to say Roxas," his friend said. He was looking at the front of the queue.Roxas' face went from warm to hot. He bit the inside of his cheek so that he didn't say something he would regret."Don't you?" Red Hair said, and then, very slowly, said his name again. "Ro - x - as...No, I guess you don't."His chest felt strange, for just a moment, hearing that. His name, from this strange boy’s moth. It was simply impulse that made him stick his tongue out at Red Hair. Just for a moment.Red Hair laughed. Loudly. It sounded like a bark.
Relationships: Axel/Roxas (Kingdom Hearts)
Series: Running To and Away [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2166804
Comments: 28
Kudos: 19





	1. The School

Roxas had always asked to attend school, since he was old enough to have a tutor. And yet, his Grandfather - because, Roxas had always known that no main character of a story has living parents - had never allowed it. He'd been insistent that Roxas stay - safe and locked away in the Abner estate, so that nothing could happen to him. Unlike his brother.

Ventus had gone missing when he was small. Roxas had been a few years old, but didn’t remember much of anything about this mysterious brother – only knew that the two of them looked very similar. It must have been why Grandfather had been so protective; in case the second of his heirs also disappeared.

Ten years later, Ventus had returned. Right where he had been left, on the docks in Bristol.

And, after ten years of being desperate to go to school - to have a life away from safety and shelter (because what main character is ever comfortable with their surroundings, no matter how luxurious?) - Roxas had finally been sent to Harrow School. Grandfather had relented, perhaps because the original boy had returned.

He did not need the second.

So he stood, fifteen years old, with the other third years, waiting to go into the large hall for the beginning of the year’s assembly. Only, all of the other boys had known each other since they were thirteen. They already had friends and were chatting excitedly to each other, knocking each other on the back and laughing, glad to be back after a long Summer travelling.

Whilst Roxas stood quietly to one side, thinking about his life as though someone had asked him. He had not travelled out of England. In fact, he was the furthest he’d even been from home.

Harrow was loud. Louder than he'd been prepared for. And Harrow was big. He'd never seen so many people his own age, all decked out in the same royal blue morning suits. He had been the only one wearing the boater when he arrived. Now he had it tucked under his arm like everyone else.

Maybe he shouldn't be here. Maybe he should go back home to his tutor.

But home had Ventus. The strange, half-wild boy who had spent the last ten years with pirates. Who spoke in a coarse accent and used coarser words. His manners were coarse too, and he found Grandfather’s attempts to change them a game. Thought it was amusing to see how far he could pish him.

And yet he was softer than Roxas, somehow. Less inclined to lose his temper and more able to keep his comments to himself. Of the two of them, his Grandfather would prefer to mould Ventus personally. Roxas’ only fault was impulsiveness, and that was something school could deal with.

That was, if he could tell the difference between the two of them.

A voice, by Roxas' ear, broke him out of his reverie.

"-stuck on baby-sitting duty."

He turned to see two older boys leant against the wall. One had dark hair, left loose and hanging over his face so that Roxas could barely see his features. The other had brilliant, ginger hair. No, it was richer than ginger. _Red._ Crimson.

The sign of the devil, his grandfather would say. Roxas thought it was beautiful, tumbling over his shoulders instead of being tied back.

It was him who had spoken, because it was the one with dark hair who said, "You were one of them, once."

Red Hair laughed. His teeth flashed, canines sharp like a wolf. There was, Roxas thought, something of the wolf in his narrow face. In the straight slope of his nose and set of his dark brows.

"Never," he said. "I came into the world just as I am now."

There was a loud burst of laughter from the boys. It was so sudden that Roxas found himself cringing away from it. Everyone surged like a wave. Someone elbowed his chest and he found himself stumbling against the wall.

Too close to the older boys. He stepped away, ducking his head. Attention was not something he wanted to attract - not now that Harrow had turned out to be big and loud and - were these boys or wild animals?

"Now, this one I like," Red Hair said.

Roxas looked up because he wanted to - he had to know - who had caught the boy's attention. Only to find that Red Hair was looking at _him_. He had green eyes - very green. Like the jade sculpture that Grandfather kept on a pedestal from the East.

"Keeps himself nice and quiet, looking as tidy as if his mumsy just dropped him off."

The uniform Roxas wore was very clearly new - he'd been careful to keep it neat and tidy, but that had nothing to do with any 'mumsy.' He had simply assumed that was the done thing. And now that it made him stand out - made a very wolfish grin appear on Red Hair's face - he felt his face grow warm. It would certainly shut the boy up if he revealed that his mother was dead.

But he’d missed his chance. Red Hair was already asking, "What's your name?"

And even though Roxas had been about to scowl at him, there was something - _something_ \- that made him open his mouth and reply, "Roxas."

"Ah, he does have a tongue." Red Hair grinned, and leant back against the wall.

"You don't need a tongue to say Roxas," his friend said. He was looking at the front of the queue.

Roxas' face went from warm to hot. He bit the inside of his cheek so that he didn't say something he would regret.

"Don't you?" Red Hair said, and then, very slowly, said his name again. "Ro - x - as...No, I guess you don't."

His chest felt strange, for just a moment, hearing that. His name, from this strange boy’s moth. It was simply impulse that made him stick his tongue out at Red Hair. Just for a moment.

Red Hair laughed. Loudly. It sounded like a bark.

"There it is!" he exclaimed. And even though Roxas' cheeks were still burning, he found his lips twitching. "Here - do it again."

But now Red Hair's friend was watching Roxas too, and he felt strange about. It hadn't been for him. It had only been for one of them. So he ducked his head, even as he heard Red Hair plead with him to do it once more - just show that he had a tongue and he was putting it to good use.

It was a relief that at that moment the boys were called forward, and Roxas could blend in with the rest of the crowd. He was jostled as he headed to the front - into the large hall where he hoped there would be less noise.

There wasn't quite enough noise now to hide Red Hair's voice calling, "see you around, _Roxas."_

Roxas didn't look back. Couldn't look back because everyone around him was turning - turning to see who had made the older boys notice him. His heart was pounding and his face was still red, so he ducked his chin and continued grimly on.

He'd just have to hope that he would never see that boy again.

*

Harrow was also cold.

Roxas discovered that as he lay in his dormitory, underneath scratchy covers, and listened to the other boys whispering in their beds. Harrow was cold, and it was dark. They weren't allowed candles after a certain time, and there was no fire here.

He slept next to the window, since it was the only empty bed. It felt as though the wind was rattling straight through the glass. He buried himself under the sheets, and tried not to imagine what those scampering sounds in the walls might be.

There were no rats back home. It would be seen as a disgrace. Even if one was found, he knew the servants would never let him know. Certainly wouldn't let him know if they had killed one. He was too gentle.

He had been told that for as long as he could remember. That he was gentle, and the world ate gentle things like him up. And he supposed that he was gentle - when he felt like sobbing because the bed was not his own and he missed the comfort of home. Not so much his stern grandfather - but maybe Ventus. He told stories that had them both gasping for breath from laughing, that certainly couldn’t be true. He snuck cakes out of the kitchen, for when Roxas was practising piano.

Certainly missed the hounds bred for hunting that he took for long walks over the grounds. That would leap up and lick his face whenever he paid them a visit. Missed the grounds too, because he could lose himself in them.

He missed _home_. Missed meals that filled him up, his own things all around him, a fire in the grate that would be dealt with for him.

The scampering sounds were getting worse. He eased himself onto his elbows, and looked around the dorm, but all of the other beds were still. A boy down the end was snoring, and a few others were muttering in their sleep.

How could he rest when there were a half a dozen of them, all in here?

When he couldn’t sleep at home, or had a bad day, he would have hot milk from the kitchen. The cook would make it for him specially, skimming the skin off the top.

The kitchens were connected to the dormitory. If he remembered the way, he was sure that it would be simple enough to sneak in and make some. It couldn’t be that hard to figure out. No one was up to catch him.

He slipped from the bed, and the floor was no colder than his sheets had been. There was no dressing gown, so he pulled his breeches back on. Just in case he did run into anyone. Not that he _was_ running, rather padding as softly as he could over the uneven boards. It seemed to take forever, but he woke no one up.

When he turned the door handle, he held his breath. But it was not locked, and it swung open with only the tiniest of creaks. No one sat up, disturbed at the sound, so he slipped out. The corridor was empty – a huge contrast to the bustle of getting ready for bed, boys charging up and down, their voices echoing. This was – peaceful.

Roxas padded down the hallway and crept down the stairs. Another floor of dormitories, so he continued, his heart thudding even in the soles of his feet.

It was as he put his foot on the landing of the last step, that the voice rang out – “Hey!” and he jumped, backwards against the wall, like a caught rabbit. His heart raced. Two dark figures were coming down the hallway towards him, brandishing candles. The soft light gave their pale faces an eerie look. But they were only older boys.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” the first voice continued. “What’s your name and form? That’s grounds for –“

“Hey, wait – that’s my one.” A different, yet familiar voice, interrupted. The second candle lifted, and Roxas recognised him now – the light made his hair look like flames. The boy from this morning.

“ _Your_ one?” The first, with long hair, and amber eyes raised an eyebrow.

“Not like that.” Red Hair said it quickly. Like what, Roxas thought. “More in a lost puppy, way.”

What was worse? Like That, or Lost Puppy? Neither – he wasn’t Red Hair’s anything – and he wanted to say so, but they kept talking over him.

“He’s new. Must have gotten confused. I’ll walk him back, alright?”

A pause, in which those amber eyes looked over him closely, before, “don’t take too long.”

“Never.” Red Hair sounded cheerful, and had hold of Roxas’ arm before he could stop him.

He had to stumble back up the stairs, as he was tugged along. Red Hair’s legs were so long – it wasn’t _fair_. Especially not fair, when he came to an abrupt halt halfway up, and Roxas stubbed his toe on the step below. His cheeks burnt.

“In trouble on your first day, _Roxas?_ ”

So Red Hair had remembered his name. He looked up at him, and tried not to feel like a mouse cornered by a cat. He hadn’t realised just how shy he was, until he’d been barely able to talk to anyone all day, and even less now.

“I just – needed something to drink,” he managed.

“There’s water in the washroom. No one will have used it, yet.”

He was tugged up another step. He dug his heels in. “Not water.”

“Then what –“ Red Hair turned back. The candle was close to Roxas’ face. If he looked at it, he’d flinch, but holding that green stare seemed just as difficult. He was scrutinised, and as he was, the grip on his arm softened. “Ah.”

As if he could know! Roxas narrowed his eyes, feeling his skin pricked.

Red Hair looked.past him, back down the stairs.

"Saix will have gone now. Come on."

And he led the way back down. It took Roxas a moment to realise it, recognised the path they were taking – he was being shown the way to the kitchen, so he had only taken one step by the time Red Hair reached the landing. He waited for Roxas to catch up, before he continued. Down to the first floor, and along the corridor. The candle flickered wildly as they went, turning their shadows into monsters on the walls either side of them.

Roxas had never been scared of the dark. But it was easy not to be scared when everything was familiar. Now, he felt as though he had been swallowed by some huge beast.

The dining hall seemed much larger now there was no sun shining through the windows. Much quieter too, without shouting and laughing bouncing off the walls. There was a door at the far end – where the kitchens would be. Red Hair pushed it open, as though it was nothing, but it clearly wasn’t allowed.

He wasn’t about to tell the older boy that, though. Roxas followed him in, and saw a dozen cupboards lining the walls, counters on the top, still dotted with pots and pans that gleamed in the candlelight. A long, wooden table ran down the middle, away into the dark, so that it was impossible to tell how far the room went.

Red Hair had found a lamp on the side. Lit it, with a swift movement, then set it down at the end of the table.

“Sit,” he said, stepping back to the counters.

Roxas did. Still confused, still wary. He watched the silhouette of Red Hair rifle through the pantry, suddenly aware that he was only in a nightshirt and breeches. Indecent, really. Not to mention that his feet felt frozen from the stone floors.

“You’re in luck,” Red Hair said. “There’s some left. I knew they skimped on the pudding.”

Milk. He had a bottle of milk in his hand. Roxas blinked, stunned. He’d read his mind.

Red Hair mistook the look. “Can’t get any gin – unless you sneak into the Headmaster’s office.”

“Gin?” Roxas’ voice seemed to echo.

The older boy put a pot on the stove with a thunk, which was much too loud. “That’s how I used to have it. Put me right to sleep.”

How could he reply to that? He couldn’t say that gin, especially, was such a common drink. Something his servants would recommend to drink hot when he was sick, that his grandfather would scoff at.

So, he stayed at the table, and watched as Red Hair poured the milk in. The flames in the stove – he was so quick at making fires – crackled inside. He found two cups, swirling the pot every so often. Roxas sat in silence.

It seemed like an hour before he was lifting it from the stove again. It was cold down here, and the school’s nightshirt was thin. Roxas gritted his teeth to hide that he was shivering. He put his hands around the cup to warm them.

Red Hair had a cup too. Was watching Roxas, and smirked at the baffled look on his face. "You're new. You're homesick. Everyone wants hot milk when they're homesick."

Was it really that simple? Roxas took a sip of milk, to think about his answer, and managed a "thank you."

A pause. Red Hair took a sip of milk. Dipped a finger in and fished out the skin that had formed on top of it. Roxas grimaced. Bad manners.

"Roxas, isn't it?" Red Hair asked.

He nodded.

"So, what's the reason you've been abandoned at Harrow?"

It was so blunt - and so personal - Roxas blinked. "I - wanted to."

"To be abandoned?" Red Hair raised an eyebrow. They seemed almost too short, Roxas thought, as though they didn't cover his eye fully.

He shook his head, feeling his chest clench. Because he hadn't been. Not abandoned. Grandfather said he would write. Ventus said he would every day. (But Ventus' letters had become rusty, with all those years at sea.)

"To go to school."

"Cannot imagine why." Red Hair leant back, scratching the neck of his head. It made his hair dance like flames.

Roxas could not say that he'd been imagining midnight feasts and jolly game days. Mystery and adventure. And he also could not say that he had been so desperate to escape the shadow of the boy he was not. And now that he had, he felt Grandfather had given him up too easily.

"It’s just - this has to be a step down for you, right?" Red Hair asked. "No servants and warm fires?"

"Isn't it for you?" It was easier to ask the question back.

Red Hair gave him a lopsided grin. Sipped milk, and it left a white line across the top of his mouth.

"It’s all a step up for _me_.” He drew the back of his hand over his lips. “Scholarship.”

“Oh.” Why would he admit that to Roxas so easily? Was it something to be so proud of? It did, however, explain the suggestion of gin. “But then – why would you want to be here?”

He got a wider smirk. Green eyes twinkled at him in the candlelight, as though that was a good question to ask.

“This school might not be great. But after this – learning at Harrow will get me to University – and then – I’ll have so many options.” He swigged from his milk again. “Almost as many as you, I’d reckon.”

Options. What were Roxas’ options? He’d never really thought about it before. Of course, he would take over from Grandfather. The family business. Or would he? Ventus was older. He was back. Roxas was –

Nothing.

He swallowed more hot milk. It did not help.

Red Hair was watching him. Closely. And Roxas pretended that he did not notice. That he didn’t mind the silence stretching a chasm between them. They carried on drinking, and he found, when he reached the bottom of the cup, that despite his worries, he felt tired.

“You’d best be getting to bed now,” Red Hair said, putting both of their cups on the side. Would they get in trouble, if anyone noticed? “You’ve got a big day of learning ahead of you, tomorrow.”

Of course. His first day. Roxas’ stomach overturned.

A hand patted his shoulder as he drew himself up from the bench. Red Hair. His hand was warm, as though it had swallowed some of the flames.

“You’re going to be fine.”

How could he be so sure? He had not been fine today. He had barely been acknowledged by anyone. Had disliked so much of this so far.

Red Hair walked him back upstairs. All the way to the door of his dorm. There were the same sounds from inside. Snoring, and sleep-talking and – scurrying.

He turned to ask Red Hair if there were any rats in the school, as cowardly as it would make him seem.

What came out instead was, “I don’t know your name.”

Red Hair blinked. And smirked. “It’s Axel.” He tapped Roxas’ forehead – and, oh no, his hair must be a mess –

“Got it memorized?”

*

It wasn’t like that. Axel had said that to Saix.

But he did start to think of Roxas as _his_ third year. They had nothing in common. He’d seen it a dozen times each year – had lived with it in his first year – Roxas was just another homesick, rich boy. Must have been the spunk. Or those huge, lost puppy eyes. Such a _deep_ blue – not like the sky or the sea in England. Sapphires, if he had ever seen them.

So, he found himself making an effort to say, “hello, _Roxas_ ,” whenever they crossed paths. He only received a glare in response. That was what he got for making hot milk for someone, he guessed. But he hadn’t been able to resist; he really had been like a kitten in the rain.

That had been what was on his mind when the first year came up to their table and told them all – in much too loud a voice – that the Headmaster wanted to see Axel.

“In trouble, already?” Saix’s lips curled upwards.

Axel glared at the first year, until he stepped away, and looked down. No need to announce his business in front of everyone. No need at all. It wouldn’t be trouble, not in their sense. But no doubt it would be to do with money.

“I’m sure it’s to talk about my glowing improvement this term,” he smirked at Saix, then swung off of the bench. It was still the first week, and the teachers still had the hall tamed. Almost everyone had heard. Most of them stared at Axel as he passed. He glanced at them, to show that he'd seen them and couldn’t care less what they had thought.

It was - concerning. Because he hadn't actually done anything wrong, that he knew of, yet. The Headmaster had no reason to see him. The only thing that he could think of was that they were full, and the first to go would be the boy with the scholarship.

Back to the Smithy, he guessed. Back to being trapped in a life of hard work with little pay, trapped in the same small town forever.

Dammnit.

He reached the Headmaster's office. Knocked. Waited. Told himself he did not care. It didn't matter. If he said it enough, maybe it would be true.

A deep voice called enter. So he did.

Those eyes, almost amber like a cat's, looked up as he stepped through the heavy, wooden door. His hair was almost white now, pushed back away from his face, though his beard was still stubborn enough to keep its colour.

"Ah. Axel."

"You called." Axel tried to keep up the unbothered air, as much as was polite.

And got a slight smile. "Indeed. We have a new student. A third year."

"We met." And then, quickly, to explain himself. "The opening assembly."

"That's good," the Headmaster said. There was a strange smile on his face, like he could guess there was more to it than that. "Because his grandfather is a powerful man – the Duke Abner, and he has made it clear he wants Roxas to do well.” Which usually meant he was giving the school a lot more money. Wealthy as well as powerful. “To ensure that he’s satisfied, I want you to tutor him."

He saw the face Axel made at the preposition. "Is there a problem?"

Yes. Because an older boy tutoring a younger boy usually meant something at Harrow. It was Like That. Which was fine, when you were from a family with money. A family that could pay for charges to be overlooked. Would be nothing more than a silly rumour to entertain at parties.

Axel would be ruined just by the rumours. He wouldn’t get anywhere at all.

"No," he said. "No problem."

"Good."

A silence. Axel shifted his weight. "Can I ask why – why me?”

Out of all of the fifth years – out of anyone older than Roxas – why did it have to be Axel burdened with him? It felt cruel. Unnecessary.

And weren’t the headmaster’s eyes soft, even kind? It made sent a flicker of anger through him.

“Because,” he said. “You come from a unique background; you know what it is like to be out of your depth here. I believe the two of you can learn from each other, more than simply Mathematics or Latin.”

A nice sentiment, that Axel didn’t care for. It was only now that everyone was starting to forget where he had come from. He didn’t need to start all over again.

“Was that - all?" he asked. Wanted to be anywhere away from here.

One eyebrow raised slightly.

"Unless there is something else you wish to tell me?" the Headmaster asked.

A dozen broken rules already, but that was to be expected. They all did. Pranks were being planned, and midnight feasts prepared. That was homecoming at Harrow.

"Not at all, sir." And he smiled.

A slight smile in return. It was an understanding of what it was to be a school boy. Perhaps even a soft spot for Axel, if he could flatter himself in such a way.

"Then I don't expect to see you again soon."

Axel nodded. Stiffly. And left. Damn it all. He would have to be clever. Discreet about it. Because he couldn’t deny the Headmaster, and had to make sure that Roxas was intelligent enough to pass his exams. If he wasn’t up to scratch, it would be clear he wasn’t doing his job – and his position would teeter even further than ever.

So, he had to make sure no one would know that he was tasked with _that_. Not even Saix.

That boy was going to cost him everything. Unless he could pull this off.


	2. The Tutoring

Axel hung around outside of the third year’s class, just a few afternoons after he was asked to be a tutor. It _wasn’t_ working up the nerve. It was waiting until Saix was busy wit the first years squash practice to notice him missing. Even then, he gave an excuse to miss the last five minutes of his own class, just to make sure he was not followed.

The glimmer of comfort to it all, he supposed, was that he was trusted enough to do it – to tutor this oh so important man’s grandchild. Perhaps that was another glimmer; maybe he would be thanked for his trouble. Money and social standing were, after all, the two things no one could get enough of. Two things he sorely needed.

He waited at the end of the corridor, as the door opened, and the boys filed out. They pushed and shoved at each other, creating a storm of noise. Their cravats were askew, and half of their boaters seemed to ride the crowd, instead of their heads.

Apart from Roxas’, of course. And it was just as much that his uniform was neat and tidy, as it was him being new, that kept the others away from him. It gave Axel that puppy-left-in-the-rain feeling again, that he’d clearly made no friends in the week and a half he’d been at Harrow. He trailed along after the others, no one at his side. His expression was almost dazed, as though he still could not take it all in.

The Third Years barely noticed Axel. They were too busy talking about wrestling, and practising squash to make the team. That was good. It meant that he could tap Roxas on the shoulder when he got close enough, lean in just slightly, and murmur, “Come with me. Now.”

There. It was subtle. And no one would notice Roxas turning and walking the wrong way. Which he did. After a long pause, footsteps echoed behind Axel, away from all the noise.

He led the way upstairs, to the classrooms used for Latin and Greek. There was already dust on the windowsills again, if it had ever been cleaned away after the Summer break. No Professor’s voices echoed down the hallway. They had already retreated to their own common room.

It was the perfect place not to be found.

Axel sat on one of the desks, freshly polished boots on one of the chairs. In fact, he had to be liberal with the polish, to hide the vast number of scuffs, and the fact that the soles were starting to come away. It was not as though home would send any money for replacements.

Roxas stayed standing. Stayed staring at Axel with those unnervingly blue eyes. Not even asking what he was there for.

It was not polite to ask, but Axel had to know. “Who’s your Grandfather?”

Another long pause. Maybe that was why the others avoided him – Roxas looked like he hadn’t heard the question at all. Maybe the tutoring was necessary, then.

But no, that first night of term, he hadn’t seemed it. It wasn’t slowness, it was –

“Duke Abner,” Roxas said. As though it was the most normal thing in the world. Well, Axel reasoned, it was, in Harrow. And yet, Roxas didn’t draw himself up, shoulders high, like Saix would at a title.

“Huh.” Axel raised his eyebrows, to seem impressed. “Well, he’s got us all tripping over ourselves to make sure you’re up to snuff.”

Roxas didn’t say anything to that, but his cheeks went bright red. He ducked his head, hiding in his hat brim.

“I’ve been tasked with the job of tutoring you,” Axel continued. He waited for any reply, and when he got none, leant back on his hands. Sighed. Tilted his own head to catch a glimpse of Roxas’ face. “You remember me?”

Blue eyes focused on him. “You’re Axel.”

A thrill went through him – why should it? Axel grinned. “Right. And you’re Roxas.”

Roxas’ mouth twitched. He nodded.

“Take a seat, then.” Axel nudged another chair with his foot.

So Roxas did. Still staring. No, it wasn’t staring. It was more like – watching. He was watching Axel, but as though he was not taking any of it in. Unnerving.

Then, Axel realised what it was. He was waiting. Axel had said that he would tutor him.

Only, he’d given so much thought to _how_ he was going to sneak in these sessions, that Axel hadn’t really thought of _what_ he was going to tutor. Or how.

“Right,” he said, mostly to himself. “Why don’t I – let’s see what you already know.”

He swung off from the desk, and stepped up to the blackboard. There was still half a lesson that he had to rub away. That was good too, it gave him time to think of questions. Stuff that wasn’t too hard. That second years would learn.

Roxas barely hesitated. His handwriting wasn’t quite up to standard, but the answers were correct. Very correct. Axel pushed on, to third year questions – the stuff that he struggled with, a few years ago. That was completed with ease, as well. Like he was an automaton.

But then, he looked up at Axel, cheeks still pink, but with a spark in his eye. “I could do that with my eyes closed.”

Axel laughed. There he was. The same boy who stuck his tongue out at two upperclassman.

“Alright, Duke Clever.” Axel wiped the old questions off. Fine. He’d do more difficult ones. Fourth Year stuff.

“Marquess.”

“Hm?”

“The son – grandson – of a Duke is a Marquess.”

Axel glanced over his shoulder to see the smallest of smirks on Roxas’ face. “Be quiet and do your work.”

The boy was smart. Roxas knew every question Axel tried, even as he tried to get more obscure, almost unreasonable. So that he had to double check Milton and Keats, just to make sure he had the right answer. So that he was doing the maths questions at the same time.

At least this wouldn’t be painful, then. It would even be easy – Axel would hardly have to _teach_ Roxas anything, and he would be all kept up on class work. They wouldn’t have to meet more than once a week.

He stopped, when there was still time for him to take the long way around to the dining hall, so they weren’t seen walking together.

But he couldn't help saying, perhaps because he was the slightest bit narked at how clever Roxas was, "The Duke didn't send you here because you don't know much."

Roxas put the slate he'd been using back in the desk. He spoke to it, "I wanted to come to school. I said."

Axel should really leave. The subject and the room. The longer he stayed, just talking, the more likely it was that he'd be caught.

"How do you know all of that?"

"I like to read."

That was something he'd heard before. The same stuff Larxene and Saix said. It usually meant lonely days, with books for company.

"Only child?"

Roxas have him a strange look then. Amused? Puzzled? Annoyed?

The bell for dinner rang. As bright and obnoxious as usual.

Roxas stood. Clamped his boater back on over his unruly hair.

Axel blurted, "You can't tell anyone about this."

Which made Roxas stop. And blink at him. "Why?"

Maybe not so clever after all. Considering he wanted to go to school, he didn't seem to know anything about how school was actually done.

"Because – people might get the wrong idea.”

Roxas kept staring, his head slightly tilted, so that he looked even more like a puppy than usual. They would be late for dinner, if they didn’t leave now.

“Would they think it’s Like That?”

“Something like that.” As if he even knew what that meant. He should be corrected, enlightened, but Axel couldn’t bring himself to do that. “Met me here on Friday, alright?”

Roxas nodded. And Axel let him leave first, trailing along behind. He could definitely get away with not tutoring him. He would be able to keep up with the lessons fine. He could lie to the Headmaster, if he was ever asked to follow up on it.

Unfortunately, the man could always sniff out the truth. He’d probably do something sneaky, like calling Roxas in for questions first. That boy wouldn’t be able to lie to authority. It wasn’t in him to lie at all.

Which was the other reason that Axel would keep this up. Because Roxas did need tutoring. Just not the academic kind. Someone had to teach this boy that wearing his uniform the correct way was not the right thing to do.

Among other things.

*

Harrow was - not that different from home. There were routines to be followed, and adults to be avoided at all costs. (And, if not avoided, then spoken too with as many manners and as much respect as possible.) Roxas was still surrounded by people, and yet alone. It didn't bother him, not now that he had let each one of his daydreams go.

The things that were different were things that could be gotten used to. Nights without fires and harder beds were simple enough. Even then sounds of the other boys snoring could be drowned out surprisingly easily.

The food was the biggest trouble. It was bland and tasteless. Easy to get used to, until the thought of home food reared its head. All anyone had to do was mention a Christmas dinner, and everyone would become completely miserable.

Lessons were alright. Easy, even. Roxas knew most of it and could trundle through mathematics, English and Latin eaisly. Science was more of a challenge, but he'd read enough around the subjects to make his way.

The others didn't try as hard, even though they all knew as well as he did. (He heard them discussing it all in the common room.) He was seen as one of the try-hards for being honest with what he knew.

But he was not the top of the class. That position belonged to a boy with silver hair. Riku. He wasn't ignored, like Roxas. It was a weird kind of worship and hate that the other boys had. They admired him, but also jostled him in the hallway. Called him names that Roxas wasn’t sure of the meaning of.

He was the best on the sports field. Roxas found that out when they were all trying out for the squash team. So that was another idea that he’d had, crossed off the list. He was not going to be the sports hero.

Even his tutor – Axel – was not how he should be. Not exactly eager to make sure Roxas was settling in, or teach him anything new.

He next time he saw him, Axel snatched the hat off Roxas' head.

"You're not wearing this," he said.

Roxas frowned. He still didn't know exactly what to say to this boy, so it was better not to say anything. Instead, he reached for the hat.

It was held out of his reach. Axel really was tall - like one of the long, thin trees on the estate.

"And you need to redo your cravat." He raised an eyebrow, and his lips twitched, when Roxas' hand flew to it. "It's still in place, alright. In place and perfect."

This was all too confusing. "Should it not be?"

“Do you see anyone else wearing it like that?”

Axel’s wasn’t. It was tied messily and loose around his neck, not in any particular style. But Roxas had assumed that was because he came from a poor family, and did not know better. (Of course, he couldn’t _say_ that.) Instead, he his own cravat out of place, until he received a nod of approval.

“Your jacket too.” He gestured to the buttons.

“But its cold.”

“This isn’t cold.” Axel smirked, as though he was teasing. “Wait until Winter really gets started. Then it will be cold.”

Roxas already had to grit his jaw in class, to stop himself shivering. He couldn’t imagine it getting worse.

“Why do I have to do this?” He crossed his arms over his still buttoned jacket.

“To fit in.” Axel sat at one of the desks, Roxas’ hat beside him. One boot on the chair, no doubt leaving a muddy print, and one dangling almost to the floor. “You'll make some friends, if you dress like everyone else."

After seeing the way everyone behaved, Roxas wasn't sure he wanted friends. Not these strange boys that jostled each other and complained about everything.

Still, he didn’t enjoy being ignored much, either.

He sat down, on a chair at the opposite table, biting his lip. "Are you my friend?"

Axel looked away. His face was unreadable. "I - I suppose so."

Was that genuine, or just another tease? Roxas followed his gaze to the blackboard. He wasn't sure Axel was a good candidate for a friend. His Grandfather wouldn't approve. He would expect Roxas to be in correspondence with Viscounts and Lords to be.

But Axel was the one Roxas had found. That was important.

"Then,” he said. “I've already got one and don't need any more."

A pause. Axel's green eyes bored into Roxas'.

"Do you want to get picked on?"

He wasn't, really. Not yet, he supposed. But surely it was only a matter of time before he was pushed and pinched like Riku. He didn't have any friends, either.

"No," he murmured.

"Then do as I tell you."

"Is this what all tutors are like?"

"No." There was that strange look on Axel's face, again. Like he knew something that Roxas didn't know. Something both amusing and agonising at once. "Not at all. But I care more about how you are, than what you know."

Roxas frowned. "How – I am?"

Axel looked him over, pushing red hair away from his face. "How are you finding Harrow?"

"Oh. It's alright." He traced the line of the floorboards with the tip of his shoe, and shrugged. Because it was bad enough to admit to himself that it was not what he wanted, let alone, to someone else. He tried to find something he enjoyed. "I like the lessons."

"You're homesick."

So he wasn't fooling anyone. Axel's eyebrow was still raised, but he didn't quite look sympathetic.

Roxas _was_ homesick. But he was homesick for a place that he could never go back to. Ventus was there. And he changed everything. He was homesick for the past.

So, he could only shrug again, and make a "Mm," noise.

It wasn't enough. He could still feel that gaze piercing into him. As though he was a particularly hard puzzle to solve.

"Just go home, then," Axel said. "Say you don't like it and kick up a fuss."

That was how it used to be. It used to be that Roxas could write a letter saying it was just a bit too hot, and a carriage would be there to collect him post-haste. He'd be in his own bed just the next night.

But things weren't how they used to be. Grandfather might tell him to stick it out a little longer. Even if he did come, it would mean going back to fading into the shadows. Being second best.

He couldn't do that. He traced the line of the floorboard again.

"Home's different too."

"Ah." Axel had a self-satisfied smirk on his face, like he'd cracked the puzzle. "New baby."

"No." Roxas frowned. That would be easier, actually. It would still mean he was the eldest - but he didn't want to think about that. "I can’t talk about it."

It was forbidden. They were to keep as many details about Ventus' disappearance and return to themselves as possible. A boy willingly joining – pirates – was a scandal.

" _Bastard_ new baby, then?" Axel's eyes glittered. "Or are you-"

"No!" He didn't mean for it to come out as a snap. But it did. That would be worse. And an insult – to him – and his parents. (All orphans should be fiercely protective of their parent’s memory, after all.

Axel blinked at him. Shocked for just a moment, before he took a breath.

"Alright." He paused. "You got assigned work to do today?"

"Yes." A whole mountain of it. Even his free time was not his free time anymore.

"Get started on it." Axel's leg swung lazily, like a cat's tail. "I'll help if you need it."

So Roxas did. The help wasn't necessary. Even if it was, he wouldn't know how to ask. If he did get stuck, he pretended that he wasn’t, flipping to a new parchment piece and starting something else.

And at the end of the session, his hat was placed haphazardly back on his head. Before Axel left him, alone.

*

There was a new boy.

He stood at the end of the dormitory, a small suitcase in his hand. The teacher told them all the boy's name was Xion.

Xion did not say a word.

Not when the teacher left and he was ordered down to Roxas's end. By the window; the new end. Not when he unpacked. And not at dinner.

Roxas sat opposite him. He felt strangely obligated to, as though they had paired off together. Only, he had no idea what to say.

Xion was pale. His hair was dark, stopping short at the nape of his neck. Boater pulled down so low that his face was in shadow.

Roxas' sat on the end of his bench. Already, the change in uniform had got the boys wishing him a good morning. Had got him included in a few conversations in the dormitory.

It was like magic.

And the hat was rudely shoved back on to his head, with a "wear your uniform properly, _Roxas._ "

Axel. Grinning down at him. Maybe he winked, but it was hard to tell. Roxas glared back, but he could feel himself start to smirk.

"What is with you?" The boy at his side - the one always at his side - asked. Thin scars traversed his face, starting at his forehead and crossing at the bridge of his nose. It gave him a sharp appearance.

"I have to have someone to irritate," Axel replied, as they headed to the older boy's table. "Or I'll perish."

"Then do so."

Axel just laughed again. Long and loud.

Xion was watching Roxas. He pretended not to notice. Pretended that he wasn’t staring at Axel’s wolfish grin.

A boy asked him how he knew _Axel,_ equal parts impressed and suspicious _._ He shrugged, unsure of what to say.

Then everyone was asking about homework, and who had done it, and who should copy who. Roxas went back to his dinner. Tried to focus on his work too. But they were reading Odysseus, and it made him think what it would be like to spend all that time on a ship. Which made him think of Ventus.

And he didn’t want to think about that right now. It left a heavy ache in his chest. Homesickness.

All the while, Xion watched. Not just him. Everyone. As though he hadn't seen boys before.

Well, probably not like this.

Which made Roxas put his own problems aside. Because she knew just what it was like to be Xion. To be new and confused and a little scared.

So he smiled, and said, "don't worry, they won't have expected you to do the homework yet."

Xion nodded.

“And –“ Roxas glanced down the table, but the two of them were being completely ignored. “I can help you, if you get stuck.”

Again, Xion nodded. Maybe it was not the right thing to say. Roxas thought it was a nice offer – the kind he would have appreciated if he was first starting, but it was not the thing Axel would have advised. He would have offered for a new boy to _copy_ off him – because doing any more work than you had to was generally frowned upon, at Harrow.

But it didn’t seem to deter Xion.

It didn’t exactly make him any friendlier, either. Yet, he sat next to Roxas during class, and at meals. Still without saying a word. It still felt more companionable, to be sat with someone, and to have someone to walk places with.

So, he found himself looking forward to the next strange tutoring session with Axel. Because he could finally say he found a friend.

*

“Why are you so friendly with that third year?”

Saix’s voice echoed in the dorm.

Axel waited. No one else answered. Deep breathing and snoring echoed around the dorm. They were all asleep. Good. He didn’t need anyone listening to them.

The silhouette of Saix raised himself onto his elbows. His eyes might well have glowed in the dark.

“He’s the boy from the opening assembly,” Axel said. Tried to sound as bored as he could. “He's fun to annoy."

Because Roxas looked at him the same way, every time. A cross pout, like a disgruntled puppy. Eyes big, blue - and a flush of pink on his cheeks. Axel's stomach squirmed at that thought.

"Isn't the joke old now?"

"Not until it stops amusing me." He turned his head on the pillow, to look at Saix properly. "Why? Are you jealous?"

Saix lay back down. Shifted over so that those cat-like eyes were still on him. "Suspicious you're giving me a break."

Axel rolled onto his side. Stretched an arm out of the sheets, so it just looked as though it was dangling. "You know I'll always like you best."

Saix's fingers brushed against his. Just quickly. So they could both say they happened to stretch at the same time.

"Axel." It was a warning whisper.

Axel smiled, hoping that his teeth caught the moonlight, and pulled back. It was behind them, that phase, and for the better because Axel had felt so awkward around this boy who was supposed to be his friend that it was a relief to go back to just –

But he still thought about it - them - more than he should.

That had nothing to do with Roxas though. Nothing at all.

"Go to sleep, Saix," he whispered. Rolled back over, to show that it was the end of the conversation.

As if he could ever have the last word.

"Be careful."

"There’s nothing going on."

It was only a half lie. There was something going on, and it wouldn't be good if people heard about it. But it was not connected to - it wasn't Like That. Not like that silver haired boy's troubles.

Axel helped Roxas with homework. Barely. He _liked_ Roxas. Because he was sparky and bright and seemed so naive about the actual world. It was the same way he'd like a stray puppy or a kitten. That was all.

That was all. He kept telling himself.

“That shrimp has a title.”

Axel feigned surprise. “Oh?”

“So if you annoy him too much –”

“He doesn’t know I don’t.”

One would think it was Saix on a scholarship. He seemed fixated on it. As though Axel would be tossed out for doing one thing wrong. (When, in reality, he’d been in trouble twice as much as anyone else in the dorm.)

"If you miss my company as much as you say, you'll help me steal Marly's cravat."

It was a distraction. And a good one. Marluxia was in the other dorm. And dorms were always, automatically, rivals. Every term lead up to one large prank on each other. Buckets of water on top of the doors (though Demyx ended up with the flu from that, the other year), or fireworks outside windows, or alarm clocks going off at two in the morning and waking everyone up.

He could sense Saix’s scowl in the dark. "That's just as dangerous."

"He won't know." Axel smiled to himself, warning to his own idea. "He'll think that it's one of the others. Vexen."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because -" Axel rolled onto his back again. Everyone kept snoring. "He'll think the same as you. That I can't compromise my space here."

Saix waited a beat. "You're terrible."

Axel had to smother a laugh with his fist. His knuckles dug uncomfortably into his mouth. "And yet, old Headmaster loves me."

"You’re not a shrimp, anymore. You shouldn’t act like one."

It had been a mistake to mention the Headmaster, though. Axel could practically hear the gears turning in Saix's head. Returning to that day, and wondering what that meeting had been about, since Axel was not in any trouble afterwards. It had been something else – something Axel did not want to brag about.

So he made a show of yawning, rolling over and laying still.

Because Saix was the last person who could know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): I feel like this chapter helps get the story going a lot more. And Xion! (With a secret > >)  
> Thank you for the support so far! I really appreciate it. And I hope this was a good addition! <3 xx


	3. The Scene Roxas Saw

3

“Here.”

Axel handed over the bun. It was iced. Swollen raisins sat inside the golden dough, looking ready to burst. The kind of bun that made everyone’s mouth water.

Roxas looked up at him. Frowned slightly, just like when he was doing his homework, and couldn’t figure out the answer.

“Are we allowed?”

Axel just laughed, tossing his satchel down by a desk. “I’m in charge, in here, and I say that you are.”

Roxas still didn’t take the bun. He stood by the opposite desk. Blonde hair sticking up, as though he’d worn a boater all day. He hadn’t – Axel had seen him at lunch, which had been good – he was listening. It just always seemed to sit in a mess. “Did you keep them from bunbreak?”

“As if I’d be able to keep them that long.” Axel bit into his own, thinking of Demyx and how he could _sniff_ out cake. “No, old cook was taking them to the staff room. So I pinched a couple.”

The sun was coming in from the big window on the wall behind Axel. Autumn sun. The kind that didn’t make the drafty classrooms any warmer, but that lit everything in gold. It put its colour into Roxas’ cheeks, and his hair, as his frown deepened.

“You’ll get in trouble for that.”

Axel sighed. “Now you sound like Saix. Look – they won’t know if we eat the evidence.”

He waved the bun in front of Roxas’ face, leaning closer. It almost hit his nose, when Roxas snatched it from him, as suddenly as a cat. He took a bite.

“Saix?” he asked. “The one you’re always with?”

“That’s the one.”

Big, blue eyes stared up at him, interested. “Is he your best friend?”

The smile froze, just for a second, on Axel’s face. “Yes.”

“Hm.” Roxas chewed slowly. “But you’re so – different.”

Whatever the strange feeling in Axel’s stomach had been, it disappeared at that. He laughed. “What do you mean?”

“He’s serious. And you’re –”

“Funny and charming?” Axel grinned. Roxas didn’t reply. He ducked his head, suddenly very interested in his bun. “And more handsome?”

He told himself that he added the last part because he’d wanted to see Roxas scowl at him. Or stick his tongue out, or push him. Maybe it was more of a test. To see how he’d react.

No, it was training, Axel rationised. Because other older boys might have different intentions than him, and Roxas had to be ready for that. Ready to fight them off, if they tried anything.

But the younger boy looked back up at him, suddenly, and asked, “why bring the buns?”

It wasn’t just about the buns. But he still acted like it was – “can’t do any work on an empty stomach.”

Roxas smiled then. Just briefly. Glowing in the dying afternoon. Then pulled out his workbooks, like always, setting them down on the desk, and getting ready to work.

It was just as Axel finished his last bite of bun, just as Roxas dipped his quill in the ink, that he looked up.

“Aren’t you going to work, too?” It was asked sweetly enough. But there was a coy, little smile on Roxas’ face.

“ _I’m_ supposed to be tutoring _you_.” Axel smiled back. Though it wasn’t as though there was much need. He did have homework to do. And quite a heap of it. But it was better left for the common room. When they could all moan and pretend that they weren’t trying and didn’t care that much together. It was all a bore, when he could work through twice as quick as anyone else.

“But you wouldn’t want to waste the energy of the bun.”

It made him laugh. Which meant that Axel took the penalty. He sat down properly, too, taking out his own essay and getting to work. For a few minutes, it was even - good. Companionable. Maybe a bit too quiet, but it meant he could concentrate.

Roxas asked what he was doing, and promptly wrinkled his nose up when he saw it was Chaucer. Axel read him some. How it was meant to be read. It was The Miller's Tale - and the best part – Absolon kissing Alisoun’s ‘ers’ and chaos ensuing. It sent them both into hysterics.

And Roxas was still giggling on and off, though trying to stifle it, five minutes after, as he went back to his Latin. It made it hard for Axel to concentrate. He gave up, biting his lip to stop himself smiling.

"I think I have a friend," Roxas said, suddenly.

Axel's quill paused. "Is that so?"

“There’s this boy,” Roxas continued, speaking quickly. “He arrived late. But he always sits with me. Doesn’t say much, though.”

“Look who's talking.”

Roxas stuck his tongue out, though he was blushing. He fiddled with the end of his quill, ruining the end. "But it's a bit - I feel awkward, both of us sat there, not saying anything."

“Why don’t you try having a chat, then?”

“He doesn't talk. Only nods or shakes his head.” Roxas paused, again. “But it is nice. To have a friend.”

Axel said it without thinking. “I’m your friend too.”

Roxas looked at him. As though he wanted to believe him, but didn’t quite. The end of his quill rested on his lip. “But no one’s allowed to know that.”

He had him there. What good was that, if they couldn’t spend time around anyone else? Axel shrugged, and went back to his work. It felt as though Roxas was still watching him, as though he had more to ask. But after a minute or so, began writing again. The scratching of quills filled the room.

There were boys on the playing field. Shouting and tossing the ball to each other, skin pink in the cold. He’d never fancied it. But he noticed Roxas glancing towards the window often, looking wistful.

They finished up before dinner; the thought of it making their stomachs grumble, despite the extra treat.

“There you go.” Axel nudged Roxas as he passed him in the corridor. “A little icing makes everything a bit better.”

“Thank you.” And, again, he didn’t think it was just about the buns.

He shouldn’t look back. Looking back would be a mistake. But he couldn't help it. It was just a quick glance, over his shoulder, as he called, "no problem."

So he got a glimpse of Roxas. Eyes sparking and shining at him like sapphires, and hair messy around his head. Which just made him get more attached.

Because he really would have liked to be Roxas' friend.

*

"Roxas."

It took him a moment to even realise it was Xion who said it. He had not uttered a word, at all, since he had arrived. Now, though - now he had. It must have been him. Everyone else had charged off by now, to the games pitch. It was football, today – the new sport, and everyone was besides themselves with excitement.

But Xion was still in full uniform. Standing stiffly.

"Excuse me?" He blinked. Stunned.

"Roxas." Xion paused, then looked at him from under his boater, with startlingly blue eyes. His voice was soft. Almost careful, as though he was made of glass and would shatter if he spoke too loud. "That is what they call you, isn't it?"

"Yes - I'm - yes." Roxas took a breath. "What is it?"

"I -" Xion bit his lip. "I'm not feeling very well."

"Oh.” He wasn’t sure what to say to that. Why was Xion telling him? And why had he waited until Roxas was just about to leave?

“What do I do? If I can’t go to games?”

As if Roxas knew much more! He’d not been sick, not yet, and he certainly didn’t want to miss the chance for _football._ If he scored a goal, or maybe two, played a good defence, then he would be noticed. Enough to get a pat on the back at dinner. Enough to be popular.

But Xion looked more than nervous – he looked scared. It would be cruel to leave him.

“We'll have to go to San,” he said. The other boys called Sanatorium ‘San,’ so he did too. “Come on, I’ll take you.”

Though he wasn’t keen to go either. Still, he knew he had to. He could point the way to San, but Xion wouldn’t speak when he was there. He didn’t speak to anyone. Not even the teachers, when they called on him. Instead, he stared blankly up at them, until he’d gotten a smack across the knuckles for insolence. Even then, he didn’t cry out.

It made Roxas wonder how Xion had even got in here, in the first place.

So he led the way through the corridors. Polished wood covered most of the brickwork, stopping whenever there was an arched window. It showed a mass of grey clouds. There was a draft, that pierced through Roxas’ open jacket, through his waistcoat too.

It didn’t help that he barely remembered the way to San himself. He peered down each corridor, trying to seem more confident than he felt.

Even so, Nurse seemed fierce. She was taller than average, for a woman, and she was trussed up so tightly in her corsets, she seemed likely to explore at any moment. Her eyes were like black beetles, piercing through them as they stepped in.

“You should be in lesson,” she snapped.

Roxas glanced at Xion. His lips were pursed. It was clear that he wasn’t going to whisper a word.

“Sorry,” Roxas said, instead. “It’s just – Xion doesn’t feel good.”

The beetles turned to Xion, and Nurse sniffed. “Looks fine.”

Xion looked at Roxas, and gave a miniscule shake of his head. There was a line between his brows, as he frowned.

“It’s his stomach,” Roxas guessed, from the hand Xion had clenched there. “And – and look, he feels so faint that he’s shaking.”

Xion jumped, as though he wasn’t supposed to notice that. But it was enough to get Nurse to come over, peering at Xion. She put the back of her hand to his forehead, and he really did start trembling so much that Roxas caught his elbow, in case he was about to fall over.

Nurse didn’t look happy about it, but she sat Xion on the bed nearest the window, with a cup of water and instructions to rest before the next lesson. Roxas was not told whether to stay, or go, so he stood dithering for a few moments.

Then Xion looked at him again, blue eyes wide. There were dark circles underneath them, and he really did look even paler than usual.

So he sighed, and sat next to him. They could see the sports fields, from here. Their class were running around, pushing each other out of the way for the ball. Football looked exciting.

Roxas could see Riku. In the thick of it all. His foot aimed at the ball -

And it flew through the goal.

Roxas scowled. Everyone cheered. And you wouldn't know that he was shoved in the hallways, or his elbow jogged in class.

"Chess?"

He blinked at Xion, barely hearing what he'd asked. Then it clicked. There was a chess set on the bedside. So, he nodded, and fetched it. They set it up on the bed, even though the board was at a slight angle. It sent a few pawns sliding sideways, but that was alright.

Xion did not take long to think of his moves. He moved fast - and Roxas beat him easily. Three times in a row. At the fourth game, he tried to slow down. Let Xion capture a few of his pawns. A bishop. just so that he didn't feel he was doing too badly.

Yet, he still won. It was hard not too.

Xion's mouth twitched at each end, as though he were trying to smile but couldn't quite manage it. They shook hands. Xion's were soft, but he supposed his were too. A callous on his forefinger, where he wrote with a quill so much, but that was it.

He wondered what Axel's hands were like. Where had he come from, before Harrow? A farm, perhaps. Or a bakers. Somewhere he'd have to work hard, everyday. Somewhere that would turn his palms coarse. How would it feel to shake hands with him?

When Xion felt a bit better - still pale, but not shaking and not feeling ill - they walked back to the common room. The school itself felt like a small village, with long, bricked and spired buildings forming a collection of 'L's and 'T's. At the top of the hill, there was a small Church, standing against the grey clouds of the afternoon.

They walked down the curving path, past the dining hall and to the living spaces. There were a collection of older boys on the grass, mock-boxing each other. Axel, Roxas was sorry to note, was among the louts. But at least he was watching from a distance, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, as though it was all below him.

His friend was standing next to them. Saix.

"Go on, hit him, Vexen!" an older boy called. Tall, with such pale red hair that it looked pink in the fading light.

The two boys were still eyeing each other up, only daring small jabs that didn’t quite land.

"Wouldn't we all like to hit Demyx," Saix muttered.

Axel laughed, loudly, and it made Roxas' chest feel tight. He made to continue on, just as those green eyes spotted him.

Axel nodded. Just slightly.

Roxas nodded back.

"You know them?" Xion asked, in a tiny whisper, when they were safely out of earshot.

"Only Axel." Roxas paused. How could he explain? "And I don't. Not really. We only ever say hello."

Xion was still looking at him, as though that was something very brave. Or as though he could see through the lie?

Roxas nudged him with his elbow, feeling his cheeks warm. “Have you got any homework left?”

Xion shook his head.

“Whist, then?”

A nod at that. And it turned out Xion was better at cards than at chess. They sat either side of the chaise lounge in the common room, keeping their hands close to their chests. He won so often that Roxas wondered if he was counting the cards. But those wide eyes looked too innocent, and he couldn’t seriously imagine Xion cheating. It was – nice. They smirked and smiled, whilst everyone chatted around them. There was enough coal in the fire to keep them warm, and the firelight flickered off of the cream walls. It didn’t matter that they only had each other, that he only had one friend. Because he felt happy.

Roxas felt, for the first time since arriving, at home at Harrow.

*

He hadn’t meant to see.

It was just. The door was open.

Roxas had been heading to his tutoring session with Axel, when he’d spotted it. Down the history corridor was another open door. Then, when he’d passed it, he’d seen a flash of silver hair.

Silver hair. He looked, then. It _was_ Riku. Riku and an older boy – even older than Axel. They were talking, in soft, low voices. For some reason, that made him hang back, peering round the doorframe.

Their faces were close. The older boy leaning over Riku, where he sat on the edge of a desk. He looked strange – his eyes soft and shiny, his cheeks flushed.

He said something, and it made the older boy chuckle. His fingers touched Riku’s cheek – Riku’s jaw – and then –

And then –

Their mouths were against each other’s. Stayed there.

Roxas pulled back. His skin felt itchy. Hot all over. They were both _boys_. Kissing. Still kissing.

If they pulled away, came to close the door, they would see him.

So, he held his breath as he walked past, trying not to let his shoes tap on the wood. But his heart was so loud in his chest, he was sure that they’d hear it. It was even in his fingertips.

Axel was already in their room. Rocking backwards on a chair, staring out of the window. His hair looked like a small sun in the last light of the afternoon. He smirked when he saw Roxas come in.

Axel was already in their room. Rocking backwards on a chair, staring out of the window. His hair looked like a mini sun in the last light of the afternoon. He smirked when he saw Roxas enter.

“You look like you've seen a ghost."

That would have been easier to explain. Would have been exciting. He shook his head, feeling heat prickling across his cheeks.

Axel frowned, then. "So what's wrong?"

"I -" His voice came out too high, and he was still not sure if they would be overheard. He closed the door, making sure that it clicked shut softly, before he came closer. Axel watched him, eyebrows raised, like it was amusing. "I saw - down there - a boy in my class-" Because even Roxas knew not to use names when it came to a situation like this. "-He was - they -"

He broke off, putting his hand to his mouth. Part of him wondered what it was like - what it felt like to kiss someone. He silenced it, trying to hide behind his hair.

"Smacking?" Axel asked.

Roxas didn't know what he meant. He had to squeak out, " _kissing."_

"That’s the same thing." Axel ducked his head, peering at Roxas. He looked - puzzled. "I thought you knew about that."

How could he have? He’d never – never even _thought_ about it. That that was something that could happen. That two _boys_ could ever – look like that – or do that –

And yet, it made sense now. Why Riku was treated like that. Like That. That was what it meant - that he was - that he liked -

That other boy, then. Older. His - tutor?

"It's - is it often Like That?" Roxas asked. "Between-"

"Between younger boys and older?" Axel leant back again, out of view. "Not the shrimps, no. But around your age - yeah. It's easier for an older boy to get a younger boy to go along with it; its often just because they feel – lonely. They can threaten to tell a teacher if they get cold feet about it. Most don't realise it would be throwing them both to sea."

Roxas felt the desk behind him. He leant against it. Stared at Axel's shoes. They were polished, but the leather looked much too worn.

"I'm younger than you." His voice was a whisper.

"Hey-" Axel stood. Stepped forward. And Roxas wanted to flinch away, but he didn't. He stayed still, as Axel placed his hands on Roxas' shoulders. "Hey - it's not Like That. Not with us. Alright?"

He looked up. Axel's green eyes stared back at him. Green like jade. Wide. Desperate.

"The Headmaster asked me to keep an eye on you. That's all. And we're friends, if you want, but not - we're not -"

"We're not." Roxas echoed. He felt as though he was still in the doorway. He could still see Riku looking up at the other boy. The expression on his face. That soft smile.

"No." Axel gave a sharp breath. In and out. Squeezed Roxas' shoulders. "And that's why you have to be quiet about this, alright? Because most of them will get the wrong idea."

Roxas nodded.

"Alright." Axel released him. As though he was boiling hot. And stepped back.

Roxas risked a glance at him. He looked - embarrassed. Looking at the board determinedly, fingers tracking the line of his jacket.

"There's some cake in my bag," Axel said. "We'll split it before we leave. If you’re up to it.”

He nodded, and tried to smile to look grateful, but he didn’t think he _was_. His stomach felt strange. Not the way his Grandfather would have wanted him to feel. He was sure, if _he_ knew, that he would be repulsed and disgusted by the scene he’d witnessed.

Yet, Roxas didn’t feel like that. He sat, staring at a list of Latin vocabulary, trying to figure it out. Shocked, yes. Though some of that shock was that Riku had any friends at all – much less _smile_. Confused, because he didn’t know that was something that happened somewhere like _Harrow_.

Mainly – and this was the worst part of all – it was akin to excitement. A buzzing feeling at the ends of his nerves. The kind he got when he ran with the dogs, instead of hunting like he should. It was a feeling that needed to be squashed. And he tried. But it kept popping back up. The image of mouths pressed against each other. The tender way the older boy had brushed Riku’s cheek.

The letters of his Latin homework blurred together.

“Do they love each other?”

He hadn’t meant to ask out loud. Axel looked up from his work, frowning. It didn’t look as though he’d done much, either.

“What? How should I know?”

“Well, I thought –” Roxas stopped, because Axel had raised an eyebrow, and looked so much like a grown up, that a fresh wave of heat exploded on Roxas’ cheeks. “That you only did that with someone you love.”

“Oh, Roxas.” At least Axel was laughing. A proper laugh, so that his eyes were almost squeezed shut. “Anyone can fake a kiss.” He tilted his head to the side, hair glinting like a flame. “Do you know what a harlot is?”

“Of course.” But only because he’d listened in on the staff. And he was shocked that anyone could do that. “That’s their job, though.”

“ _Anyone_ can fake a kiss.” Axel had been chewing his quill. There was a smudge of ink by his bottom lip. Roxas tried not to look at it. “It’s just like a handshake.”

Kissing seemed a lot more intimate than a handshake. Roxas tried to turn back to his Latin. It was useless. The ‘k’s and ‘i’s and ‘s’ all seemed to double in size, leering at him.

“Have you –” He had to clear his throat. “Have you ever – kissed – someone?”  
Axel hadn’t even turned back to his work, as though he knew that Roxas had more questions. He sat with his head in his hand.

“Yes.”

“What’s it like?”

“Hmmm.” The ink stain moved, as Axel pursed his lips. “I don’t think I should be the one to tell you that. Don’t want to corrupt the little Marquess.”

Roxas scowled.

Axel softened. Eyes less glittering gems and more grassy meadow.

“Look,” he said. “Forget about what you saw. Don’t mention it. Just – move on, alright?”

“Alright.”

And he intended to. He _really_ did _mean_ to carry on, as though nothing had changed.

But Roxas was sure he’d just lied.

*

Demyx was whining.

“Why didn’t you wait for me? We always do mathematics together!”

Because Roxas was a little clever clogs who didn’t need any help. And it was better if Axel used that time to finish his own workload. Of course, he could get away with not showing up to the sessions. Roxas would do fine on his own, and if the Headmaster asked, he could always lie about it.

Only, he had started to look forward to their twice weekly meetings. He liked hearing how Roxas was getting on – that he was settling in. Liked that he didn’t look so lost anymore. Liked the line that appeared at the top of his nose when he was concentrating, the way he scowled as though he was trying not to laugh, or the way he liked the icing off the bun before eating the rest.

Did not like how all of that was likely land him in trouble.

He forced himself to concentrate on the conversation, "you can still copy mine."

"I can, and thank you." Demyx slumped back on his bed, head against the board. There were thumps from upstairs as the final years moved around. "But that won't help me _understand_ it. Not in a test."

Demyx struggled with his numbers. And letters, sometimes too. He said they all squiggled around when he tried to focus on them. They always helped him. It was the only reason he’d passed all of his tests.

“Sorry.” Axel still passed over his workbook. Which, he noticed, Demyx still jumped on, eagerly. He turned back to reading _The Mysteries of Udolpho_ , and thought that would be the end of it.

Until he was watching the lower halls with Saix. It was their turn to make sure that the younger boys stayed in bed. Or at least in their dorms. (Midnight feasts were to be expected.)

“You’re finally letting Demyx stand on his own two feet.”

“Not intentionally,” Axel said. He carried the candle, and kept his eyes focused on the flame.

“It’s good. He can’t rely on us all the time.”

“I want to see him finish school.” They kept their voices low, as they passed the other dormitories. Roxas was in one of these. Was he awake? Could he hear them?

"His father is a Lord. It doesn't matter if he finishes school." Saix's face was impassive, pale in the dark.

Right. It didn’t. But Demyx genuinely seemed to want to do well, and Axel did want to see that.

Axel elbowed him, smirking. "Don't you want us all to go to Oxford together?"

"I'll be free of you as soon as I can be." But Saix's mouth was curling at the sides. They snickered, nudging each other until the candle spluttered, and almost went out.

Axel stayed still, urging it back to brightness. And they stayed quiet, heading down the next staircase. There wasn't much point checking this lot, because they could barely stay awake until eleven.

Maybe that was why Saix asked, speaking softly, "so why are you getting your work done early?"

"Got to get serious. I said."

Saix raised his eyebrows. "That's why Marly's cake disappeared at bunbreak."

It was where Roxas’ cake had come from. He’d saved his own, and they’d munched companionably. Hopefully the smacking he’d seen had been forgotten.

"Stealing cakes is not the same as making sure I don't fail." Because Marluxia had been completely baffled, and had ordered the rest of his dorm to search high and low

"You could never fail." Saix's hand brushed Axel's. Most likely on accident. "You know you're the smartest in get dorm."

"Really? Smarter than you?" Axel was teasing – grinning – but Saix was back to being serious now.

"Are you in any trouble?”

“Not at all.” That was the truth.

Saix still stared at him, cat’s eyes flashing in the candlelight. “If there was - you'd tell me?”

“Yes. You know that.” Axel stared back. As steadily as he could. “As if I’d keep anything from you.”

Saix nodded, then barked at a boy for peering around his door. The conversation was dropped, and Axel felt a wave of relief wash over him. He was safe. Had gotten Saix off of his trail. For now.

Because, it seemed like there was going to be more and more that he _was_ keeping from his oldest friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): The mystery of what Like That means >u> (Though Riku wasn't with Sora, lol; that's what Worth Running to is about.)  
> -The Mysteries of Udolpho was published later than I'd like for this fic and was more of a book a young lady would read, but I couldn't think of another well-known novel.  
> -I feel like Chaucer is prestigious even for me, but I did study it at a-level, and if you can find an animated or explained version on youtube there's some good silly humour in it. (The kind that teenage boys would find hilarious at least)  
> Thanks so so much for all of the comments on this fic so far!! I really really appreciate it, and can't wait to share more of it >u< <3 xx


	4. The Secret

4

It wasn’t _like that_. Not with Axel. He wasn’t – he hardly had kissing – ‘smacking’ – on his mind if he wasn’t even going to tell Roxas what it was like. They were friends. That was all.

But that didn’t stop him from wondering. It did not help that they were studying Shakespeare – A Midsummer Night’s Dream – and there were lovers in that, many cries of ‘my love,’ but there was very little detail on what lovers _did._ There was no description of any kind of kiss.

Would there be onstage?

How would Roxas even ask that?

His cheeks grew warm just at the thought. Obviously, he couldn’t ask anyone in the class. They’d snicker that he was so clueless, and there was no way to ask _Riku_ without revealing what he’d seen. (Not that he would want to, anyway.) He tried Xion, hoping that at least there would be someone as clueless as him.

But Xion smiled when he asked, and said, “yes, I’ve kissed someone. It feels…well,” he considered, his own cheeks pink. “Warm. Like a hug.”

A hug. Roxas didn’t want to admit that he had little experience with that, either. His Grandfather had not been the hugging sort, and Ventus squeezed him so tightly that he could barely breathe, so that hadn’t been warm and pleasant. Had his nursemaid even hugged him? He couldn’t remember, he’d been so small.

“I mean – it’s a warm feeling here.” Xion put a hand to his chest, as though he could read Roxas’ mind. “In your heart. A happy feeling.”

“Oh.” That didn’t seem to help. “Right. Thanks.”

They’d turned back to chess, but his mind wasn’t in it, and he was losing badly. Did that warm feeling appear, no matter who it was? Or only someone you loved?

Did Riku love that older boy?

Axel had kissed someone. Had _he_ loved them? Did he still? The thought made Roxas feel – strange. That he didn’t know something like that about his friend. And they _were_ friends; Axel wasn’t just being nice to a younger boy, he enjoyed spending time with Roxas. He shouldn’t give it any more thought.

But the thought of kissing still snuck into his mind, when he lay in bed. Especially in class.

The was a pecking order as to who read the play between them. Roxas was not on it. But neither was Xion, so that made him feel slightly better. Riku, he noticed, was always told to read a female part.

It made Roxas feel as though he’d missed a step down the stairs, though he couldn’t figure out why. He spent English staring out of the window - squirrels had begun to scurry across the grounds now - wondering what it was like to love someone as much as Hermia and Lysander did.

Axel pulled a face when he took the playbook out of his bag.

"Ugh. Easily the worst of the comedies."

"Which is the best?"

Axel licked icing off the corner of his mouth. "Much ado about nothing. Have you read that one?"

"Once, I think." Roxas had, but he didn’t want to seem too eager. He'd struggled through the whole collection of Shakespeare at age twelve, barely understanding a word. But he'd liked the way it sounded, whispering the lines aloud to himself. Now, he was old enough to understand properly.

"It’s good."

"Do you not like the fairies?" Because that was the only thing that seemed wildly different about this play.

"It’s a bit fanciful, isn't it?" Axel must have caught Roxas' guilty look. "Oh? Does the little Marquis believe in tiny wingéd creatures that have magic?"

He said it with an accent, so that it sounded almost like the way it would in the play.

"No." Though there had been a time he had crept through every bush back home to spot one.

Axel didn't look like he believed him, his green eyes glittering just as Roxas imagined Puck's would. His stomach overturned.

"It’s - it's the way Oberon treats Titania. Like she's something to be controlled," Axel explained. "It’s hardly love, and she shouldn't go back to him. Imagine writing a Queen falling in love with a donkey when good Queen Bess was still on the throne."

Roxas paused. He took his time to write the title of his essay. "I suppose she remembered their love when she woke up."

"Yes, subdued once more." Axel looked sour.

"But -" Roxas didn't want to say it. It was not something g he truly understood himself, but all of society had pressed it upon him. "Is that not how it should be?"

He had half-expected Axel to get angry. To go off in a rant that would be educating despite its passion. He had not expected Axel to simply fix him with a long, steady look for an unnrrvingly long time, and ask "why?"

Roxas opened his mouth. But no sound came out. Because that was what he had been told. That women were more fragile, more easily bent. That a husband had charge of a wife. It was how it seemed to be in all the books.

He wondered if that was how his mother had been. And closed his mouth.

"And don't even get me started about the lovers," Axel continued. He rolled his eyes and his mouth twisted. He talked as he worked, about each character’s vices.

Roxas only half listened. He watched Axel push his red hair out of his eyes every other second. It should be tied back, in polite society. But he always wore it long, in a mane around his shoulders so that he looked like a lion. Like a noble creature.

How strange it was that he was so clever, given his beginnings. But then – Roxas bit his lip – was that just another thing that he had been told? Was it also not as true as Grandfather always said?

He tried to think back, to if any of the servants were as smart as Axel, but none of their conversations had enough _substance_. It was all meal plans, day plans, if their families were well. Had Roxas even asked them.

Axel looked up. Caught him staring. At least a smile twisted the corner of his mouth, and he looked amused, rather than annoyed.

“Something wrong?”

“No. Sorry.”

Axel seemed even more amused at the apology.

Roxas turned back to his work. Though he seemed to know as little about romance as ever.

*

It fell into too easy of a pattern. Meeting Roxas twice after lessons, in the old history room, getting work done whilst sharing a bun (or two) Axel had pinched. When Saix was doing sports. Term continued, days bleeding into weeks. Yet, time was passing. The afternoons were getting darker earlier, the wind had more of a bite to it, and the leaves were turning orange and yellow. Like the fires, burning low in the grates. In November, they would be allowed a lump more of coal, in each dorm, and he was counting down the days.

On Saturday afternoon, Axel walked up the hill, and round to the Chapel. There was a window set into the front, with six smaller circles set inside it. An eye, he’d thought, when he first arrived. An eye that watched them all. He’d never been too sure how to feel about that Chapel. At Christmas, it was nice, when they were singing and there was holly everywhere. Especially Christingles. And the readings on Sunday, the stories from the Bible, he liked those. But the rest of their services were tedious, and he found his mind drifting. It didn’t help that Demyx could never sit still, and would send their whole pew shuffling in turn.

He sighed, and leant against the stone wall. It had rained the previous day, and it felt as though it was still wet. That was good. It was cold against his face.

“Axel?"

It was a familiar voice. Axel opened his eyes to see Roxas in front of the Church. It looked as though he’d walked from the other way around it, his boots splattered with mud. He was already wearing his gloves, and had buttoned his jacket again. Not used to the cold. The sun was on his back, the mid-afternoon light turning it gold. It still stuck up, untameable.

For all of his book smarts, the boy was naïve. Barely understood how to make friends, what friendship was, other than the kind of ideals written about in novels. Not to mention love. It was completely alien to him. Axel couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. Clearly, he had not seen much of it.

That made him not think too much about saying, “My little Marquess.”

It was meant to just be a little tease, just because Axel was fond of him. Or maybe because he wanted Roxas to scowl-pout at him. Instead, he frowned, ducking his head.

“I hate –”

He broke off, though he came to stand next to Axel, not quite leaning on the wall.

“What?” Axel nudged him, just a light tap, with his elbow.

He got a sigh in response. “I don’t feel as though I should have a title, when I've done nothing.”

“Most of the boys here haven't done anything.”

“More than me.”

“So, what? Were you locked up in the tower?” Because Roxas had just studied Richard III, and he’d been accused of doing such a thing. But also because Axel was curious. Boys didn’t join Harrow so late, without an interesting reason. Roxas had only given him a hint..

“As good as.” Roxas sighed again. “If I must be a Marquis, then I should have liked to – to have experience, or – or a reputation. Something exciting. Like – like a rake.”

Axel burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it. Imagining Roxas, who looked ready to faint upon seeing a kiss – ruining ladies’ reputation – was absurd. Maybe he realised it too, because he dissolved into snickers too. He tilted, so that he was almost leaning against Axel, before he seemed to recover.

“Alright, not a rake. An – an –” Roxas thought, looking out over the green hills below them. “An explorer.”

“Yes, you deal so well with the cold.” Axel tweaked Roxas’ jacket.

His hand was batted away. “I wouldn’t go somewhere cold, so there.” Roxas stuck his pointy, pink tongue out at him. “I would go to Egypt – or Greece –”

“You can go there on your tour.” It was all the boys in his dorm could talk about. Their grand tours. Italy, Spain, France. The amount of drinking, gambling and ladies they would get up to.

“I might not –” Roxas looked out over the grounds again, the twining buildings of Harrow school like a maze from up here. “My Grandfather wouldn’t like me to do a tour.”

Grandfather again. He seemed to be the only family Roxas had, even then, he was mentioned rarely. If it had been just the two of them, then it must have hurt terribly to be sent away from him. To somewhere like here.

Or maybe the old man was sick. And Roxas had been sent away to not be in the way. Maybe he lay awake worrying about the future of his only family.

Maybe yet, the man was harsh and mean. He had, after all, made a point of Roxas’ grades. Perhaps he feared being sent back and facing more beatings. Axel couldn’t very well ask. He would have to wait, and see if he was worthy of being confided in.

He nudged Roxas with his elbow again, to try to get him to cheer up, and Roxas nudged him back, smiling slightly.

“Still homesick?” he asked, instead.

Roxas thought for a moment. “It’s getting better. I like being with Xion.” He paused, glancing across. His eyes twinkled, like there was a star trapped in them. “And you.”

The boy had hair like the sun, and eyes like the sky. Axel’s throat was dry. Guilt curled in his stomach, because no – not Roxas. Not anyone. He couldn’t even start to think that.

He ignored the feeling, forcing his mouth into a smirk. “The feeling is mutual.”

Roxas smiled wider at that. Just as the wind picked up again, pummelling freezing fists though their jackets. They huddled deeper into their collars.

And Roxas leant against Axel. Just so that they were touching. As though he was a windbreaker. Well, he was so much taller, that he supposed he was.

It was – nice. Different than spending time with the others. Then, it felt as though he had to be _Axel_ , joking, laughing and only skin deep. With Roxas, he could just be – Axel. That was enough.

The clock in the chapel chimed the half hour. They could hear the echo of the bells in St Mary’s, across the way, like a mirror image. It wouldn’t be long until dinner.

“Axel,” Roxas said, his voice soft. He shuffled, jacket brushing Axel. “Where did you come from? Before – before Harrow?”

Well, Roxas had told him that much. It was his turn, now. “London.”

“Oh.” A line appeared between Roxas’ eyebrows. He was obviously confused.

Axel smiled. “Expecting the country?”

“No.” But his cheeks were bright pink.

“All you rich boys do. It’s the only thing you think poorer people do. Farm.” He crossed his arms, and took a breath. Saix knew, of course, but he was the only one. “I'm a city child. Ma is a seamstress, Pa works at a forge – just making keys and locks, things like that.” He smiled, keeping his eyes on the school, though he felt as though Roxas was watching him. “She used to shout him one if he came in still covered in soot, in case he got it on her embroidery work.”

“Did they want you to go to Harrow?”

“I wanted to.” For the second time in ten minutes, guilt curled in Axel’s stomach. A whole cocktail of emotions that he usually fought so hard to keep down.

Roxas seemed to understand. He left it there, and fell silent. The wind picked up again, sending a cascade of leaves into the doorway. It stung Axel’s cheeks, and sent his hair swirling around his face.

He pushed it back. Caught Roxas looking at him, for just a second, before his eyes flickered away.

Axel should be getting back to House. To playing the fool and winding them all up as they enjoyed the afternoon. Marluxia would be writing poetry, Demyx would be napping, and Luxord trying to organise everyone at cards. (Even though it was just to practice counting them, so that he always won.) Normally he would be fine with that. With reading a page or two of his book at a time, urged back to his work by Saix – who never stopped.

Today, though, he wanted to stay with Roxas just a little longer.

*

Xion always found a way to avoid games. Apart from running. Then he kept up with the rest of them just fine. It was the only time he didn't have his hat pulled low. His dark hair sticking to his cheeks.

Sometimes he kept pace with Roxas, and they kept each other company. Other times they raced, Roxas pulling ahead only to flag five minutes later and be overtaken by Xion. Or vice versa. They grinned at each other every time.

Which made it feel all the lonelier when Xion would disappear to San for the afternoon, if it was squash or football. He couldn’t stay with her each time; Nurse wouldn’t allow it. Roxas was left, getting splattered with cold mud and coming back chilled through.

Xion would offer a sympathetic smile. Already having requested tea, he'd pass a warm cup to him, and he would recount a kick by kick review of the match.

"I'm sure you would be good at it," he said, taking a sip.

Xion just smiled again. "Perhaps. But I don't have the constitution for it."

"Perhaps I don't either. I don't seem to be much help."

Blue eyes shone, as though Xion was laughing at him. He had no idea why - if what he had said was really that funny until –

Until the Sunday after he met Axel at the chapel.

Xion slept late. All of the other boys had joined the fight for the washrooms at the end of the hall. (Roxas still woke early, earlier than anyone, and could never get back to sleep, so had washed and dressed before the commotion.) But Xion was still asleep, and if he didn’t get ready soon, he would be late for chapel.

So Roxas shook his shoulder. And again. And again. Xion groaned, but did not stir.

“Xion – you have to get up,” Roxas whispered, leaning further other and shaking him again.

At the sound of his voice, Xion did wake – he sat bolt upright with a sharp gasp, arm flying outwards.

And smacking Roxas square across the face, knocking him backwards. He stumbled, hand out to stop himself falling over. It slipped from the bed next to Xion, and he found himself sat on the floor.

“Blimey!” It was a word Ventus often said, and Roxas never had before, but it did seem to ease the explosion of pain in his nose. He put a hand to it, but thankfully there was no blood. It stung, sending shivers across his cheeks.

“Roxas! I’m so sorry!” Xion’s voice was high. He slipped from his bed, and knelt in front of him. “Are you alright?”

Roxas grunted and nodded, still blinking stars away. When they finally cleared from his vision – he froze.

Xion did too. Staring at him, like a deer in a hunter’s crossfire.

Because it was obvious in his nightshirt. There was an unmistakable curve to Xion’s chest. And when he looked back at her face, he saw rosy cheeks and long lashes – saw his friend’s face change to become a girl’s. Still Xion, but –

“You’re a –”

He – _she_ – moved faster than Roxas could blink; pressing a hand over his mouth.

“You mustn’t – Roxas, if we were ever friends, then you _cannot_ say a word.”

It was hard to concentrate. It was all clicking into place. The fact that he’d never seen Xion change; she always came back from the outhouse dressed. That she hid her face as much as possible, spoke as little as possible, so that she was barely noticed.

Her fingers dug into Roxas’ cheek. She did not seem angry. Instead, her eyes were wide with fear, and she was biting her lip so hard that a bead of red appeared. She was scared, desperate.

“I won’t.” The words came out muffled against her palm, but she still understood. Xion released him, heaving out a large breath. He tried not to stare at the newly discovered curve’s movement, as she did. (Only because he had never seen a woman not wearing stays, and had not realised that was not the chest’s original shape.) “But I won’t have to, if you don’t hurry – it’s past eight.”

Xion murmured a word a lot worse than blimey, and scrabbled back to her feet. Her hands were on the hem of her nightshirt, before she hissed, “well, don’t _look!”_

Roxas hadn’t been meaning to – that hadn’t been his intention – he had just been frozen from the shock. At the words, his face earnestly tried to set itself on fire, and he scrambled around to face the door of the dormitory.

A girl. One of his best friends was a girl. Nearly a _woman_. And they had – been alone unchaperoned. Had talked and laughed and played games.

A _girl_.

“How will you –” His voice cracked. He cleared it, unsuccessfully. “How will you deal with – you – you know?”

“Bandages,” Xion replied, shortly. “It’s not so dissimilar from lacing your stays too tightly.”

Roxas nodded. His mouth was dry. He heard the shuffle of fabric – feet on the floorboards trying to struggle into stockings.

“I’ll explain everything,” Xion huffed. “But not now, alright?”

“Mmhhhmm.” Roxas still sounded as though he was trying for the part of soprano.

Xion patted his shoulder as she hurried past, now dressed, to the washroom. She seemed remarkably calm. Anyone would think it was Roxas, who had a secret.

He felt on edge as they gathered in lines to walk up to the chapel, as though Xion would be discovered any moment.

There was a flash of crimson at the corner of his vision. Axel. Walking next to the boy with the scars. The one he was always with. Saix.

They all entered the chapel, most boys still yawning and groaning. The oldest sat at the back, which meant that Xion and Roxas were comfortably in the middle of it all. She had her boater pulled low, once again, and her hymn book close to her mouth.

It was because, when they all got up to sing the opening hymn, she leant closer to Roxas.

“I had to escape, and dressing as a boy was the best way to do it,” she whispered. Roxas mouthed the words instead, glancing at her to show that he was listening. “They’ll be looking for a young lady, not a schoolboy.”

The voices all around them muffled their conversation. Xion mouthed the next few words, whilst Roxas held his own hymn book closer.

“Who’s they?”

What he could see of Xion’s cheeks turned pink. “The Foundling Hospital.”

“Oh.” An orphan.

“The school wasn’t so bad,” Xion said, quickly. “No worse than here. But they wanted to find place for all of the girls – to esteem themselves – and the household they’d picked for me to go into – Roxas, I couldn’t go there. The man was a monster.”

The image of a man with a donkey’s head sprung to Roxas’ mind, but he didn’t think that was the kind of monster Xion was thinking about. She knew real, dangerous monsters.

Before he could ask anymore, the hymn came to an end. They all had to sit down.

In the shuffles and squeaks, he nudged Xion’s shoe with his own, leaning closer to whisper, “I’m an orphan too.”

Xion faced the front, listening to the Pastor, but her foot nudged his back. And there was the slightest smile on her face.

They had to wait until the next hymns until they could talk again. In that time, Roxas had a dozen burning questions.

“Why Harrow?” he asked. “Why go back to school?”

“I like school,” Xion replied. “I like learning.”

“But how did you ever get in?” It was hardly a school you just walked into.

“I didn’t use my own name. I gave another. A rich man’s.”

“They’ll check.”

“His son’s name. His dead son. They check birth dates, not death dates.”

“Dead people don’t usually go to school,” Roxas said.

Xion hid her chuckle as a cough. Roxas tried not to grin. They both paused, the singing voices around them echoing in the little hall.

“What about you?” Xion asked. “Why are you at Harrow?”

She’d been so honest with him. So, so honest, after he found out the secret that could get her – expelled was the least of her worries. But Ventus’ story was long, it as all so long and confusing and he felt like he would need an opera-length time to explain it, not a hymn.

“I just had to be out of my Grandfather’s house,” he said.

Xion nodded, like she understood.

And maybe, Roxas thought, out of anyone here, she would.

*

Saix cornered them both as they came out of the church. Axel’s little Marquis – and his friend – Xion, he thought his name was.

“You two – you weren’t paying attention during the service.” It was a dog like bark.

The rest of the third year dorm sidled past, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire. Ordinarily, Axel would slink off too, and leave Saix to dish out the punishment. But this was Roxas. His third year.

Who stared at Saix with those too blue eyes. "We were."

"Don't lie." Saix's face was pale with anger, from being talked back to. "I saw you both talking. It’s unacceptable.

Xion's head was ducked. He didn't move, or speak. Roxas, though, glared at Saix, cheeks and nose pink from the cold.

"Vexen was working on his latest chemistry test," Axel said, keeping his voice light hearted. "And Marly was reading Shelley in his prayerbook."

Saix narrowed his eyes at him. "It's too late to change _their_ habits."

"And I never paid attention in Chapel." He glanced at Roxas, twitching his eye in an almost blink. The glare softened. "You never ratted on me. Leave the children alone. It's meant to be a day of rest."

Saix looked at him for another moment.

"There is no rest for the wicked," he murmured.

But he turned away, his dark hair glinting almost blue in the watery sunlight.

Axel grinned at Roxas, who nodded back at him. There as a small smile on his face, as though he was thinking of something else. It wasn't like he could stop and ask. Saix was suspicious enough - he had to hurry after him, back down the hill. The path was slippery with dead leaves now.

"That's your one, isn't it?" So Saix had noticed. "The lost puppy."

"Puppies always get into mischief," Axel replied.

"And need to be disciplined." Cat's eyes looked sideways at him. "You're too soft on the younger ones. You always were."

"I remember what it's like to leave home." It was only half in earnest; he put a hand over his chest in a pantomime of pain. Better to be silly and over the top. It made it harder to tell when he cared.

It made Saix scoff, and roll his eyes. "We've all been away from home since were could attend school."

“Not Roxas.”

He’d said it without thinking, remembering how Roxas would snap whenever he was asked about his family. Why he was here.

Saix frowned. “How do you know?”

Right. Axel shouldn’t know anything about Roxas.

“It’s obvious,” he said. A moment too late. It was hardly an explanation.

For a long moment, he didn’t think he’d gotten away with it. Saix still frowned.

“Hm.” He suspected, then, that something was amiss. He just hadn’t figured out what yet.

“Come on,” Axel said, elbowing him. “I'd quite like to read some Shelley before the day is out too.”

And he took off down the path, before any more questions could be asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): I wonder if that's much of a shock? I do headcanon Xion as more nb, and will probably start leaning that way the more I'm writing.  
> A side note about stays is that they were like a corset with straps and actually fairly comfortable. (When not done up too tightly.) The main difference between it and a bra is that a bra supports from the top, and stays support from the bottom.  
> Thank you so so much for all of the kind words and comments!! It's been really fantastic to read them!! I've been finding things hard lately, so it's definitely lifted me up a lot <3 <3 xxx


	5. The Sheets

5

Dawn hadn’t broken yet, when Xion shook Roxas awake. Much more roughly, he noticed, than when he had done the same to her. It was a far cry from having drinking chocolate brought in by a servant, and he felt a painful stab of homesickness as he opened his eyes. The moon still shone through the curtains, giving a meagre silver light to everything.

“Mm?”

“I need your help,” Xion whispered, the line of light making her skin pale.

And that was when he noticed the tears on her cheeks. They left trails behind them, that she tried to wipe away with the heel of her hand.

“Did they find out?” he whispered, sitting up, and glancing around the room. Everyone else seemed to still be sleeping, and yet his heart was thudding.

Xion shook her head. “Not yet – but – but they will – if –” She shook her head again, her hair sticking up from tossing and turning in the night. Instead, she took Roxas’ elbow, tugging him out of his bed and over to hers. He followed, trying not to stumble too noisily.

He wasn’t sure he understood, when he saw.

There was a dark stain on Xion’s sheet. Right in the middle. It took him a moment to realise it was blood.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, looking Xion over. It may still have been dark, but it was clear there was no red mark on her stomach. She had not been stabbed in the night.

“Of course not, you goose,” she hissed. “It’s my – you do know what happens to a woman every month, don’t you?”

The only thing that jumped to Roxas’ mind was that Xion was afflicted with some kind of lycanthropy. Maybe she had taken another boy as her prey. No. No, that couldn’t be it.

He’d been silent for too long. At least Xion smirked slightly, before she brushed the hair from her face and told him, in as few a words as possible, about “the woman’s affliction.”

Roxas felt faint.

“I’ve made do, for now – but we have to get this sheet out of here, or it’ll be so obvious,” Xion murmured.

Right. That was where he came in. Only he hadn’t a clue what to do with them, either. Stains were magically removed by the staff, and clean clothes appeared back in his wardrobe. Even here, there was a team who completed the laundry.

They could hide it, but he was not sure for how long. And what would happen next month, when they had the same problem? They could not keep hiding all the sheets. It would be noticed.

Xion still stared at him, desperate. There had to be something.

There was only one person who sprung to mind. Axel. He was older, and it was commonly known that older teenagers know a lot more than younger ones. Besides, with his – background – he was sure to know how to wash a sheet.

He relayed his plan, though Xion looked terrified by the prospect.

“You said you wouldn’t tell!” She poked him, in the ribs.

Roxas caught her hand. Looked at her seriously. “Axel’s good at keeping secrets.”

She still seemed unsure, but neither could think of a better solution. Xion said she didn’t know how to get _blood_ out – urine and dirt, but not _blood,_ and wouldn’t know where to go to get it sorted in Harrow. They stripped the bed, remaking it without the sheet, and hid the old one under the mattress. For now.

Then it was just a matter of waiting until they could speak to Axel in private; not easy, when the day was full of lessons. When they were divided into years at bun break and lunch, and any deviation from that would be noticed. It was already noticed that Riku hung around the older boys. It was the first sign that something was Like That.

Fortune struck though, when Roxas went to fetch an extra bun for Xion (her stomach was starting to hurt badly now). There was another boy up there. Older, blonde. Roxas recognised him.

“You dorm with Axel, isn’t that right?” he asked. It didn’t sound as casual as he wanted it to.

The older boy blinked in surprise, then nodded, chewing slowly. “They call me Demyx.”

Demyx. The one that they all seemed to pick on. Roxas did feel a tinge of sympathy, but had to admit that there was something cow-like about his countenance that made him _look_ absentminded. At least he wasn’t like to be believed if he told anyone. (He felt mean for thinking that.)

“Will you tell him to meet me – at the Chapel – after lessons?”

“Yeah, why?”

There was something about the question. It was a little pointed, his expression slightly more concentrated. Perhaps he was more alert than he seemed.

“Letter,” Roxas said. It was the first thing he thought. “One of his letters got mixed up with mine.”

“I can pass it on.”

“I’d rather give it to him myself.” Roxas hoped his cheeks weren’t red. It sounded awful. He could see how it would sound as though it was Like That.

But Demyx just looked at him for another long moment, then shrugged and agreed.

Roxas, steadily, let out his breath, heart racing as though he had been running. Maybe Demyx was slightly simple, after all.

They brought the sheet to the hill of the chapel at the end of school, whilst everyone was in the Common Room. Whilst the sun was starting to set again.

Axel was already there, leaning against the side of the chapel with his arms folded. His hair blazed like a flame, shadows dancing around his pale skin, so that Roxas was reminded of a fallen angel.

Xion hung back. She had the sheet bundled to her chest, as though it was a child.

“Roxas,” Axel said, when they were close enough. Not Little Marquess, this time – Roxas’ stomach did something strange. “We don’t know each other, remember?”

“You’re the one who’s always talking to me,” Roxas replied. Even now, Axel would knock the back of his head if he passed, and say his name _like that_. It always made his stomach jump; it was infuriating.

Axel chuckled. “I need _someone_ to tease – oh.”

He’d spotted Xion. She’d drawn herself to her full height, looking defensive.

“We have a problem,” Roxas said. “Xion – is – well –” He couldn’t betray her, but she was not about to say anything, either. “There’s blood on the sheet. We need to get it out.”

Axel’s eyes, green as the grass underfoot, flickered between them. “And how did that happen? Did you have a fight?”

It seemed as good an excuse as any. “Something like that.”

Axel laughed, then. A proper laugh, so that he covered his mouth with the back of his hand. But his eyes were soft, as he looked at them.

“Yes, I can just imagine the two of you rough housing.” He stepped up to them – up to Xion, and held out his hand. “Let’s see the damage, then.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t give it over to him.

Axel’s voice was soft, too, when he told her. “It’s alright.”

Xion relinquished the sheet, biting her lip as Axel unfurled it, searching for the stain. When he did find it – dried a dark red by now – he smiled.

“I’ve seen much worse. You’re lucky. From fights, I mean.”

And yet, it was obvious that he knew the truth. Just from the sheet. At least he didn’t peer at Xion.

“I don’t feel it.” Xion held herself, as though she were about to fall apart. “You won’t tell?”

“No. I think its high time someone like you were let into somewhere like here.” He smiled, and Roxas felt out of the loop. He liked Xion, but he wasn’t sure that Harrow was a good place for a girl. “It’s easily sorted, at any rate.” Axel folded the sheet back up. “Vinegar and cold water. Hang it in the airing cupboard over-night, that should dry it well enough.”

“How do you – how do you know?”

“My ma,” Axel replied. There it was. That sad, drawn look he got whenever he mentioned home. He shook his head. “Why didn’t you think of this before you came here?”

Xion looked away, a line between her brows. “Well – I hadn’t – I hadn’t never before. I hoped – that I couldn’t.”

Her voice was tiny, and she hid behind her dark hair.

Axel continued to stare at her. His expression was unreadable.

“You’re not surprised,” Roxas said. To say anything.

Axel smirked. “It takes a certain kind of person to be your friend, Little Marquess.”

“ _You’re_ my friend.” He gave Axel’s shoulder a light shove, without really thinking about it. He felt – sturdy. _There_.

“I know.” Axel raised his eyebrows at Xion. She actually grinned back, ducking her chin. “What wonderful company you’ve attained for yourself at the hallowed halls of Harrow.”

A boy with no titles from no nobility, and a girl in disguise. Not anyone Grandfather would want him to associate with at Harrow. Two people who could get him in very much trouble, indeed. He looked at them both, Axel still smirking in that way of his, and Xion still smiling, slightly.

Roxas smiled too. Grandfather wasn’t here.

And he thought that he’d found himself some very good company, indeed.

*

A girl. Roxas’ friend was a girl.

Of course Axel had been surprised. But he hadn’t been stupid enough to let them see that. Because she had been all but trembling, and Roxas had been looking at him _like that_. Like he could solve everything and make it all right.

So he had. Because if Roxas was a puppy, then she’d been a rabbit. If he hadn’t been calm, then she would have ran straight into a snare. Would have been caught by the teachers and sent packing.

So he had been shocked. His stomach had dropped and his heart had stopped for a moment, as he just – guessed – what Roxas meant. As it fell into place and he didn’t see a third year boy, but a scared girl out of her depth.

Well, he could relate to some of that.

It had been easier in the end, to act as though it was nothing. As though he could deal with this, and keep smirking and teasing as usual. It might be cruel, might just be prolonging the inevitable, but he wanted to see how far she could get. She was doing something incredibly daring.

So, he managed to smuggle them a bottle of vinegar, and checked the airing cupboard to make sure it had been rubbed out properly, and then put back in with the laundry pile. And he ended up meeting them at the top of the hill in the afternoon, outside the chapel. They sat on the steps looking over the hill whilst the sun faded. It left the sky a murky purple.

“But why – why couldn’t you have ran away as a girl?” Roxas asked Xion. He sat in the middle, gold hair ruffled upwards by the breeze. “Then you wouldn’t have to hide.”

“Because it's dangerous for a girl on the street, Roxas.” Axel scoffed. He got an elbow in the ribs for his trouble. 

Xion brought her knees to her chest, her eyes on the horizon. “Because – because, how would you feel, if you were told you had to be a servant, just because you had no parents?” She looked at Roxas pointedly, growing in boldness. “And you could not be a scholar, because you were born a girl? I want to _learn_. Be intelligent. Like Mrs Wallstonecraft.”

Axel knew the woman, and what she was renown for. Both her mind, and – “Not sure that's the attention you want.”

Xion narrowed her eyes at him. He shrugged. It was true. The woman may have been clever, but it was her relationships that had captured society’s attention.

“But, really.” She brushed her hair behind her ears, and it made her look more girlish than before. “I couldn’t work for that man. Not after hearing the rumours about how he treated his servants.” Her knees pressed further into her chest, the fire that had been there just moments before already flickering out. “He brought his man with him. He was missing his little finger.”

“Oh,” was all Axel could say.

“I'm sorry,” Roxas looked about to take her hand, but he hesitated. Put it back on his knee. “I didn't realise...”

“Why would you?” Xion scowled at her shoes. “I bet you don’t think twice about your servants.”

Roxas blinked, as though he had been slapped, and fell silent. His elbow knocked against Axel’s, as he picked at the moss growing between the stones. It was hard to ignore – it felt like a knock on the door.

The wind rattled the windows of the chapel, filling the quiet and sending them all huddling into their jackets, chins against cravats.

Axel could understand Xion’s frustration. The boys here came from a different world to them. There were things that they wouldn’t understand. Their claims of being trapped by their birth just weren’t the same.

Roxas spoke, slowly, eyes pointedly fixed on the setting sun. “My Grandfather raised me to replace my older brother.”

They both stared at him. Axel noticed the curve of his eyelashes, dark in the light, casting shadows over his cheeks. His heart juddered. Because of the reveal of the secret, he told himself.

Roxas continued, “He went missing, years and years ago, and everyone assumed he was gone. But he –” He sighed. Kept picking at the moss. Pick, pick, pick. “It's a long story - he returned and I realised - well, we looked very similar anyway, but – our hair was styled the same. And I had been wearing his clothes, as I grew into them. He played piano, before, and it was always important that I could play too. I learnt Greek and Latin, because he had been learning them before he vanished. Even his favourite books, meals – Grandfather made them mine too.”

So that was – most of it. Because long lost brothers seldom came from a place of good repute, and because Roxas opened his mouth to say more, but stopped himself. He was frowning, looking more burdened than relieved that he’d revealed that.

And what a secret it was. A dark, Gothic secret that explained why Roxas would choose to leave home, even if it was to go to Harrow. He was escaping a ghost. Or was _he_ the ghost? A way for his Grandfather to keep the child that he’d lost.

Did he ever see Roxas as more than that? That was surely the question that Roxas was asking himself, now that he knew the truth.

His hand had stilled. Axel could reach out, and take it. Just as reassurance. Just because his fingers must have been chilled.

Of course he couldn’t. “Well, now I feel left out. Everyone already knows my secret.”

“Because you go telling anyone who will listen.” But the corners of Roxas’ mouth lifted, as though against his better judgement.

“That sounds –” Xion took a breath, eyes soft. “Hard.”

Roxas looked to her, and Axel was sure his eyes would be equally soft. That shouldn’t have bothered them. They were, after all, the same age. And Xion was a lady. It made sense, that he would tell her.

When he hadn’t told Axel.

“I'm here now,” Roxas said, finally. “I don’t have to be him, anymore.”

He leant back, chest heaving, bright eyes turned upwards.

His hand nudged Axel’s.

And he didn’t nudge away.

*

Halloween had arrived. The boys were planning to sneak out. They’d been planning it all week, how they were all going to wait until the Teachers had gone to bed, then slip out of the front door. No older boys to worry about, since they were planning it too. It was, apparently, a yearly occurrence for them to sneak into Harrow town, and join the festivities.

Roxas wasn’t sure. Wasn’t sure what these _festivities_ were. And did not want to attract any more trouble than necessary.

“They Masters let us,” Axel told Roxas, on their tutoring session in the afternoon. He leant against one desk, and Roxas against the opposite one, resting his hands on it, for support. “They'll all be in the town, keeping an eye on things. But the boys get a kick out of thinking that they've actually snuck out and away."

Of course, they were both equipped with buns too, ready to burst with raisins and sultanas.

"Are you going too?" Roxas took the bun. It always made his fingers sticky, but it left such a warm feeling in his stomach. Only him - Axel only ever punched buns at these tutoring sessions, not at their church meetings. Only when it was just the two of them. It made him feel – special.

"I do every year.” Axel’s eyes glittered. Of course, he would like Halloween, with all its tricks. “Are you?"

Roxas wavered. It sounded fun, going into the town, he was sure that it would be cosy and welcoming, with fires lighting up the dark night and music drifting around. But the tricks would all be fortunes, he knew that, would be trying to talk to spirits, and that wasn’t – wasn’t _good_. Grandfather had never approved of any of it. He would expect them both to studiously read from the Bible.

Ventus had seemed amused by that. He’d whispered to Roxas about how it was celebrated on the other side of the world, where the dead were celebrated. It made him shudder.

"Come on." Axel's foot nudged Roxas'. Grinned. And maybe he did have a little devil in him, because of his hair, because he looked the picture of temptation. "You'll have fun."

"What about bad spirits?" He asked. It sounded meek, but he was not laughed out.

"There will be a procession through town. They follow, all the way back to the graveyard." Axel’s wolfish grin turned into a smile, instead. A strange, sympathetic kind of smile, like he didn't know whether to tease Roxas or not. "But you can always go door to door singing hymns to save souls, if you want."

"I'm sure that would change my reputation." Not for the better.

"You're good at singing." Axel's foot nudged his. Again. "I've heard you at church."

Roxas ducked his head. There it was. Not just the prickling warmth over his cheeks, but a strange feeling in his chest. An uncomfortable leap. And yet, despite its uncomfortableness, he wanted to feel it again.

"You must have heard Xion, instead," he muttered.

"She never sings."

So, he'd realised that. It was too risky for her. But still - it was impossible that Axel could pick out Roxas' voice in amongst everyone else - from the back of the church too. Besides, it was well enough for a child to sing well, but not a gentleman. Not unless he was a baritone, and had a partner.

He didn’t think Axel was teasing, not the way the others would. But he didn’t quite know what he meant by it either.

"Roxas?” Axel stopped, to clear his throat. “I wanted to say that I'm sorry, about -"

Yesterday. About Roxas’ secret. He still couldn’t believe that it had come out of him. But he’d been just a little angry, because Xion assumed that he couldn’t understand anything – that he had no hardships. More than that, though, he’d wanted to share something back with her, after hearing such big revelations from her. It was only fair.

Though, he was sure Axel had taken it to heart. That he had told them both, instead of just him.

"Its fine." He took a big bite of his bun, for something to do with his mouth.

"I wouldn't have - said certain things."

Wouldn’t have teased about bastard children, if he’d known Roxas was not raised to be himself. But he surely would, if he knew what Ventus had been doing all these years.

"I didn't tell you, then." Roxas looked at their boots. Axel’s was still close to his. Both of them, stretching out like tree branches.

“Still.”

He swallowed. His voice sounded wobbly, like it was breaking. “My brother is nice. You'd like him.”

His boot shifted. Just slightly closer to Axel’s. Those little touches – they’d become so natural now. It seemed to mean they were close – friends – that was Roxas’ understanding of it.

“That's why it's so hard,” he continued. “Because – because there's a part of me…”

He couldn’t say it. Had not said this much to anyone.

Axel finished the thought for him. “That wishes he never did come back.”

That he didn’t know any of it. That Ventus didn’t come back and ruin anything.

“But I wouldn't have been a good fit for a Duke,” he murmured.

Axel leant forward. Flames of hair curled down, around his shoulder. “Why not?”

Because he was fragile. Because he was passionate, and could not make sensible decisions. Because that was responsibility, and power and – how could he possibly become someone like Grandfather?

He took a breath. The toes of his boots nudged Axel’s.

“I'm just a shell of him. And he’s changed now.” He took a breath that stung his chest.

“Well –” Axel shifted upright, making the table creak. He leant forward, and when Roxas looked up, he found that they were very close. Close enough to feel Axel’s breath on his cheeks. His eyes seemed even more green – lighter than emeralds, more vivid than the leaves in Summer. “I like you just fine.”

Roxas’ heart stuttered. The words seemed to stick in him, just like the bun stuck to his fingers. Axel liked _him_. Perhaps he was the only person who had said that, and really meant it. He opened his mouth, to say that the feeling was mutual – that he liked Axel too – but the words didn’t come.

Those green eyes fixed on his lips. Roxas’ head swam, he needed to take a breath, but he couldn’t bring himself to. A part of him thought that Axel was leaning closer – that –

Axel pulled away. Back to his own desk, scratching the back of his neck. Roxas finished his bun in silence, his heart still trying to remember how to work normally.

“Can we see each other in town?” he asked, his voice sounding distant. As though someone else was talking, whilst he recovered.

Axel didn’t reply immediately. He was examining the board; there was chalk still on it from the day’s lessons.

“If I can get away from Saix,” he finally replied.

Roxas nodded. That seemed to be the end of the conversation, so he sat down to work. There was not much, the teachers must have expected everyone to be out that night. Anyway, his mind wandered. Because in that moment, he was reminded of Riku and that older boy. Leaning over him in much the same way.

If someone had looked in on them, it would have seemed – well, Like That.

It was a silly thought, because Axel had made it clear that he wasn’t – that he didn’t like –

If he did feel that way about boys, then – then did he think that way about –

No. He couldn’t. Roxas was younger than him – and up until recently, he’d been so clueless about anything like that. Was _still_ clueless about anything Like That. And what did it matter anyway, what Axel thought? Because Roxas did not like – boys. Surely, he would know before now if he did.

Only Xion was a girl. And he’d never thought of kissing her. (Now that he did, he was sure that he would get a jab in the ribs with her sharp fingers if he tried.) It must have been because she had been disguised as a boy for so long.

That was a flimsy excuse. Because he _had_ thought – when he really couldn’t sleep at night – about Axel kissing. And just thinking that now was different than thinking about Xion. Not the right way around at all, he knew that much.

Although, the few times Grandfather had alluded to anything of the sort, he had made it clear that women did not care as much about _that_ part of love. Maybe that was why he felt this way.

A little voice, niggling at him, knew that wasn't it.

He glanced up at Axel. He was brushing down the board, hair like a mane around his shoulders. Lips slightly pursed, as though he was annoyed about something.

He couldn't ask. Not even if he tried beating around the bush. And he couldn't ask Xion either - now that he knew the truth it felt awkward to discuss things like that, however helpful it would be.

His quill had made a blot on the page. He hadn't been paying attention. He dipped it back in the pot.

That's when the thought occured to him. There was _someone_ who might know more about these things. Someone from home. Of course, Ventus had only sent him one letter so far, and that simply said _hope skool is not to bad. Its a nightmare hear, with you gone. Hang in there, bucko._

But, well what was the point of being raised by pirates if you couldn't answer a few of Roxas' questions?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): The Seasalt Trio are finally together vuv  
> Halloween is a fun chapter that I'm really excited to share next week as well. It was nothing like it is now. There will also be some familiar faces in town >u>  
> As always, thank you for all of the kind words. They really do mean a lot to me!! Sorry I didn't reply to all of them - I'm still finding things a little hard right now, but things seem to be getting a little better. <3 xx

**Author's Note:**

> (A/N): I've been sat on this first chapter for a while, but it was only in the last few months that I actually wanted to do anything with it. Now that I've got a bit of a backlog of chapters, I did actually want to post it, because I'm excited about where it goes and what I have planned > >   
> Like Worth Running To, it's just set vaguely in the later end of the 1700s to 1810s at the very latest. And it doesn't tie that heavily into it, but Roxas and Ventus made appearances in the last few chapters of that, and I ended up wanting to write Roxas' story too.   
> I hope this was a good start, and that you'll keep reading! Thanks in advance for any kudos/comments/bookmarks etc etc -I really do appreciate it!  
> And I hope to update the same day next week! <3


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